Alternative Gods
by Le KING
Summary: NPA's Light Yagami grows obsessed with catching L, a hacker. To justify L's remarkable skill, Light imagines L is an AI and falls in love with the idea. Too bad L actually turns out to be an AI with some feelings for Light of his own. Cyberpunk LightxL AU
1. Birth of a File

**A/N:** Hello! My name is still King, I am a recovering GaiaOnline junkie, and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

"_Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

**CH01: Birth of a File  
**

The first impressions Light Yagami had on sugar_tea16 were not a flattering ones. Contrary to the suggested gender of a feminine name, this user was a most defiantly male.

He was nowhere near sixteen, either.

So much so, that first thing on Light's mind after meeting Ryuzaki over the internet was to pursue the matter with innuendos and sexual hints until the _pedophile_ on the other side of the monitor suggested a meeting, and then Light would just welcome him with open arms and not-so kinky handcuffs.

A meeting place never actually came up, largely because (as Light found out much later on) Ryuzaki did not actually _exist_ as some_one _who would be able to come to the real world completely, and Light never managed to get far with luring Ryuzaki out with dim-witted cybersex intercourse of two words or less.

Sugar_tea16 had an IP that was virtually intractable and an agenda that was had nothing to do with luring in vulnerable children, or retrieving inheritance form a Nigerian bank, or even selling pirated music.

Which was what Light's department of NPA Division of Cybercrimes dealt with.

Far from his noble idea of a glorious street officer with a dashing uniform, shiny handcuffs and a gun, but close enough to his ideal of Justice. And although most of his fellow officers showed up to work in sweatpants and snickers, since all they would do is sit in front of computers all day anyway and eat nuts and Cheetos, Light still dressed like a dashing officer of the law.

But back to people on the wrong side of the law...

Ryuzaki was flagged first as a phone phisher, than a national intelligence threat, than finally after a long chain of handing down the case nobody really knew what to do with, Light received the infamous Sugar Tea.

His Sugar Tea was flagged as a pedophile.

After nearly everyone in the department had a stab at Sugar Tea, Light was really starting to think Ryuzaki was just a harmless troll with a multitude of internet abilities and creepy quirks; someone who really should be ignored.

Thing was, creeps who stalked phone, home, surfing, billing, medical and social security records of top Japanese students and then approached them via IM _after_ adding themselves _to someone else's_ IM list by hacking emails _just_ so that they could talk was kind of out there creepy.

Worse yet, Sugar Tea knew more about these kids than their own mothers did.

By hacking into national registry database.

But it got even creepier.

Sugar Tea's IP was untraceable, that was until NPA Division of Cybercrimes' top officer Light Yagami had a crack at him.

Sugar Tea was using IP redirectors and bouncers Light manually unscrambled while having a conversation with Sugar Tea about candy corns. It came from Yotsuba's direct main server.

Which was locked in an air-tight vault-like room at the time.

An hour later, this time during a pleasant discussion of coffee brands, Sugar Tea was talking to Light from the main server Mt Fuji Observatory.

Torte discussion originated at the Verizon Satellite up in space and ended at a cubicle that was neighboring Light's corner office.

Ryuzaki was fucking with him.

"Um, why are you calling him 'Ryuzaki'?"

Light wasn't sure if he accidentally snapped the pencil he was using because of the surprise attack of Matsuda's irritating voice, or because of that… livid _anger_ Ryuzaki drove him into by fucking with him.

"W-what?" said Light, stopping his eyes half-way between the report he was writing on Ryuzaki, and a flashing new message on his screen.

Something about harmful effects of potato chips.

Ugh.

"'Ryuzaki'. Did he give you a name or..?"

"He gave me a lecture on how harmful effects of eating potato chips outweigh the harmful effects of eating cake due to taste," Light rolled his eyes at the last word, relaxing and resorting his confident face. If he let his annoyance slip and if Matsuda picked up on it, the whole division would be buzzing with rumors how even the great Light Yagami couldn't deal with Sugar Tea.

"So.."

"So I named him."

Weeks and weeks after tediously nitpicking Ryuzaki to spill his beans that lead nothing but highly intelligent but random politics and nutrition discussions, amidst debating criminals of all things, it came up.

**sugar_tea16:** _Tennis-san only says such things because he would never push the switch himself._

Yes, Ryuzaki never did understand the difference between MisaMisa Fansite Chat and a formal college thesis statement, and it wasn't that Light wasn't at least half-grateful.

**xXtennisXx:** _I would. I would personally pull the trigger or whatever else myself. Some people just deserve to die, and if it'd make a better world, I'd carry out death penalties myself. _

**sugar_tea16:** _Given most of the civilized world would bring back the death penalty. _

**xXtennisXx:** _They should. _

**sugar_tea16:** _I am very glad the entire world justice system is not based on a single voice of a raving justice critic such as Tennis-san._

**xXtennisXx:** _My fist and I are very glad we are not in the same room as a face of someone as gullible as Ryuzaki-san. _

**sugar_tea16:** _What?_

**xXtennisXx:** _The feedback of strong opinionated minorities is always more critical and valuable than the feedback of morally weak. _

**sugar_tea16:** _No, Tennis-kun has just implied hitting me in the face should I be located in the same room as him, and as the reference suggests, Tennis-kun just called me Ryuzaki._

**xXtennisXx: **_Oh._

Oh well.

**xXtennisXx: **_I named you. Since you insist on remaining blissfully anonymous so I can't track you down and hit you in the face, I figured I'd name you. _

**sugar_tea16:** _My name is Ryuzaki?_

**xXtennisXx: **_Sure. _

**sugar_tea16:** _Okay. _

**xXtennisXx: **_Uuuunless you want to tell me what to call you? ;)_

**sugar_tea16:** _Call me Ryuzaki. _

**xXtennisXx: **_Fine. _

**sugar_tea16:** _May I ask to return the favor? _

**xXtennisXx: **_I told you you could call me Yuuri like a million times. _

**sugar_tea16:** _But that is not Tennis-san's name. _

What.

Everything led to Asuka Yuuri, his computer, his social security number, his Facebook even. Yuuri was an entity created exclusively for Ryuzaki, but Yuuri had records of getting braces last month. Yuuri was as legit as anyone. Ryuzaki never brought up the legitimacy of Yuuri, either.

_Fluke_, Light thought. _He's talking about something else. _

**xXtennisXx: **_?_

**sugar_tea16:** _Since Tennis-san named me, I would like to call Light Yagami-san by his real name. _

Light's fingers froze over keyboard and for a swift moment Light didn't know how he would connect an Asuka Yuuri and Light Yagami if he was Ryuzaki.

He just didn't know.

Seconds ticked, and nothing is a telltale sign of truth than an awkward internet pause in a chatroom.

**xXtennisXx: **_Ooookay since Tsuki is a girl's name, I guess you want to roleplay..? I keep telling you we should meet for this._

**sugar_tea16:** _L.I.G.H.T._

Ryuzaki spelled it out, in English, and it literally left no wiggle room. He was compromised, and the protocol in this case that never happened to Light before was-

**sugar_tea16**_**:**__ …I am terribly sorry Tennis-san, I did not mean to startle you. I will talk to you later today; please don't let my forwardness bother you until it does. _

**sugar_tea16:**_ c u _

Light stared at the lame good-bye and briefly wondered how Ryuzaki would "talk to him later" when all roads lead to Rome, and Rome was Light's corner office and computer, and Light's home was off-radar due to some major hitech tweaking on Light's part.

He worked at a place that dealt with computers for a reason.

Nevertheless, he went home, bothered and half-exited to possibly see Ryuzaki in all his humanly IRL glory at his home, sipping Light's tea with no sugar. Because Light's family didn't keep any sugar in the house.

Haha, Sugar Tea.

In your face.

But there was no one.

No Sugar Tea, no his father, no Sachiko or Sayu. The Yagami residence was completely empty.

Eight pairs of slippers were lined up against the high step, and six feet above them, on a narrow wall of the hallway a wall-clock ticked away 8-something PM, mocking Light's early arrival, and rightfully so. Light could find something useful to do with himself at work, or after work for that matter, but he took off, eager to sit at home and wait for Ryuzaki's threat to talk to him at home to come true.

And laugh at Ryuzaki when nothing happened.

He took his shoes off and sunk his feet into his house slippers with firm soles, took a bag of potato chips from the kitchen (and pressed a hand to the kettle to make sure it was cold, and nobody made tea in his absence) and marched upstairs for a stakeout of his own room.

The lead, the paper and the handle were just the way he left them – in place, perfectly. He expected no surprises when he unlocked the door.

And there were none. His room smelled of leather cleaning solution and his surfaces were as sterile as he had left him, disgustingly so, reminding Light once again that in his room in his parents' house, he lived alone and invited nobody.

He should really move out, he supposed.

Nobody in his family but Sayu ever told him to, and Light saw no point in it. His work-nights were often spent on creaking cheap and sweaty hotel beds, drunk and with random strangers he would lure in with his natural charms, and the sex came with no strings, and he never gave out phone-numbers, nor was he looking for relationships with any effeminate, whiny men.

They were his dirty secrets; secrets everyone but his family (except for Sayu) seemed to know about.

But Sayu kept her mouth shut in exchange for Light correcting her essays.

And so, once he opened the door and found nothing but tidiness and scents in his room, he felt a little disappointed.

He wanted his Sugar Tea.

And then, it came.

From his desk in the far corner of the room, his laptop, forever asleep on hibernate mode sang the Windows boot melody and came on without Light even touching it.

It turned on by itself.

Light dropped his chips.

It popped open an IM screen.

Light ran for it.

Light didn't have an IM _installed_.

Shit.

'Impossible' was not the world he was looking for; what he wanted to say was 'fuck fuck fuck', but he said nothing and manually pulled the plug of his modem as fast he got there.

The cord, tangled up with a charger cable and an external harddrive sent all the hardware pieces tipping and tumbling over with shallow plastic crashes.

He had really fucking sensitive data on that computer. Which was why he went through so much trouble to hide himself from the rest of the internet world. If someone accessed it when he was gone, or messed with it, or god forbid copied it-

Breathing heavily, Light started typing away.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting Light he had a text message waiting, but Light ignored it and started up virus check after virus check after system access log.

It received four more messages until Light bothered checking it amidst his major panic attack.

All four were from his cellphone company, and the only times his cellphone company contacted him were the times to tell him he went over his weekly minutes limit.

But instead, they all read, 'Please turn your internet back on. –R'.

With half of the appropriate scans started, with a pile of fallen hardware add-ons at his feet, Light stood in the middle of his room, frozen, staring at his cellphone screen, unable to process a course of action.

What the hell was he supposed to do in a case like this?

Act professional, that's what.

And so, professionally, Light dumped the contents of his desk drawer onto the floor, completing the glorious mess, one that his room has never seen, and dug out a small Netbook from the pits of the drawer. He disabled the wi-fi on his violated laptop, and plugged in his cellphone to his Netbook, and Netbook directly into the modem, and ran a trace on the texts, which is all the Netbook was capable of doing.

Because Light wrote the OS for the Netbook himself.

And not two minutes after a prompted IM download on the Netbook that failed, Light witnessed something glorious.

The small 9-inch Netbook screen split into two windows – one of the perks Light did so that if his Netbook was accessed from two points at the same time, he could see the action of the ghosted screen... the first window happily ran his trace program.

The second one was messing with his system folder. Files were replaced, hundreds at a time, and then the second portion of the split-screen split into two more, and the second one of the second one started manually _rewriting_ his bloody OS he made himself, with fucking _text, _right in front of Light's eyes.

And then an IM installed itself and opened.

_**sugar_tea16**__ signed in. _

O-okay.

**sugar_tea16:** _humor me, Light-san. Please. _

Light's fingers trembled over the keyboard with bursts of adrenaline as he typed, '_what the fuck._'

_**sugar_tea16 **__requested a voice call. _

And then it hit Light, too late perhaps, but at the point where he had no idea how this was done, or what the hell was going on, it was the effort that counted.

Light jammed his thumb into the Netbook's built-in webcam and reached for the mess he made of his drawer where he saw a pack of post-it notes. Cupping the webcam with his palm, he removed his thumb and put a post-it on over the camera's eye.

Then, he cracked his cellphone open and pulled out the phone chip. Try to hack that, Ryuzaki.

He switched on the sound recording option and set it on the floor by the Netbook, and only then did Light realize he sitting on the floor, and the floor only added an insult to his injured ego.

Begrudged and furious, he accepted the voice-call.

Sugar Tea could have used a text-to-speech program.

Instead, the high-pitched metallic voice-scrambler came with as little intonation in it as a text-to-speech would have. It annoyed Light, and yet all he could do was sit in awe and wonder how this whole ridiculous fuck-up was possible in the first place.

"Does Light-san know anything about the L?" Ryuzaki wasted no time.

"Fuck you," Light said. The least the bastard could do for him is bother with small-talk.

"The L, Light-san. What can you tell me about it?"

The L, with its pathetic 50-bit encryption, was a rumor, and if it mattered, it was supposed to be a super-virus. At some point, it interested Light too, until he was unfortunate enough to find out that L. Something was an actual person – a paranoid and egocentric lead tech developer for Yotsuba. Apparently, his work was worth his work demands, and so Yotsuba provided him with absolute anonymity.

In short, Light could tell Ryuzaki a lot about L. So he said:

"What the fuck is an L and what the fuck are you doing on my computer and who the fuck are you," completely unamused.

"The L is something that is related to what Light-san will do for me. I am talking to Light-san. I am Ryuzaki."

"Bullshit."

"Recently, Yotusba underwent a major hacking. A massive amount of read-only files were stolen, I am sure Light-san is aware."

Yes, 'Lights-san' was aware. A he couldn't care less. It wasn't his department.

Yotsuba should've backed up their files. Morons.

"By tomorrow morning, Light-san will be transferred onto the Yotsuba hacking investigation team," Ryuzaki's metallic artificial voice droned on, and Light suddenly found himself caring about the Yotusba hacking, because it meant if he was transferred, he could do nothing about _this_ cheeky little bastard on his computer.

"I would like Light-san to keep me posted on the case, as well as do favors for me."

Light did a double-take and choked on his own saliva before an involuntary laughter-imitating gargle escaped his throat. _Favors_. Sugar Tea could hack into the case notes himself. It was the _favors_ he was after.

"Go fuck yourself _by yourself_."

"I understand Light-san is very unhappy about my intrusion onto his property. I apologize and assure him I have done nothing to his equipment, and I also apologize for leading him on with his investigation of me. I needed to asses if Light-san was reliable."

Reliable? Reliable, Light's ass. As soon as he got his hands on that-

"In exchange, I can do whatever Light-san wants, except turning myself in, as I have done hardly anything illegal."

The gall.

Some people on internet – and Light detested them almost as much as he detested criminals – they thought that without a face or any social status whatsoever, they were little gods of their own little universes; the internet was their escape from their miserable existences, and they could be whatever they wanted; they could be the all-powerful. The best.

They could lie, and nothing was as pathetic as exposing lying internet posers; they were never convincing, nor did they ever get their story straight.

The internet was the pity party.

It gave people, people like his little Ryuzaki, the impression that they could do anything and everything at all.

And Light loved crushing their blind belief that under the cover of anonymity, they were all-powerful. Crushing them down to Earth, into their pathetic bedrooms, where they were powerless tiny people with greasy fingers, hair and clothes.

And so to make Ryuzaki feel like a worthless piece of human trash that he was, Light played along, for the sake of his own ego, really.

If only he hadn't.

"Okay."

Light stood up, towering above the small Netbook with Ryuzaki inside of it.

He turned on the TV.

Flipped through the channels.

Found a live news feed of some moron holding half-a building as hostages.

"The criminal on channel 36. I want him to die. Now. That's what I want."

"I understand," Ryuzaki's scrambled voice droned.

There was a pause on Ryuzaki's side of the IM window, and Light humored him by giving him time. Light's watch tapped seconds away, slowly and quietly, and the quiet ticking was the only sound in the room.

Nothing happened.

Light was about to taunt Ryuzaki.

And then...

The news anchor was talking away when the left side of the building on Light's TV, the one with hostages and the criminal inside, popped the glass from the window frames, and the windows and doors themselves vomited red and rounded clouds of fire, and the sound of explosion, the screams and the rattle all shook the building and the cameraman fell over. Somebody – a hostage probably, was blown out of the window and trashed around in the grass, on fire, burning alive.

"Anything else, Light-san?" the cold metallic voice asked politely, and Light watched the screen of his TV in blank stupor.

Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on his bed, with the Netbook at his feet.

"Oh… my god," he whispered, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand.

All those innocent people.

Dead.

And yet, the criminal was dead, too-

No, no, no… the train of thought was just_ horrible. _

Light shut Netbook lid with his foot, curled up on his bed and stared at the bleak, dusky sky, blankly.

He didn't think about the hack of pretty much every piece of technology he owned, or the danger he suddenly found himself in if Ryuzaki was capable of electronically messing with gas and electricity of buildings, or the Yotsuba, or the L, or the dead people, or the dead criminal, or even justice.

Nothing like that.

It was that...

Everything so far was _impossible_.

And Light was _fascinated_.

_**-Alt-**_

_A/N: Alrighty. With DT at its last dying breaths, I had to push this out. 8D_

_It's my next baby. I've been planning a cyberpunk fic for years and years and years. Is gonna be grand, yeah… I bought up fanart of it on Gaia for inspiration, ha ha. I'm pathetic. _

_I have nothing to say for now, really, other than, this is another mindfuck. If you came from DT, you know what to expect from me. If you have no idea what the hell this is, just... kinda, bear with me, ha ha? __**I'd really appreciate initial thoughts on this though. :'D**_

_Oh yeah. Hang onto it while you can: happy ending promise. In, say... 30 chapters? _

_A/N2: I am publishing this, and I have tears in my eyes. MY SECOND BABY IS HERE! Yay! _

**Magic Button.**

**It stalked you even here.**

**Click and say something. :D**

l

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	2. Vulcan Salute

_**Disclaimer: **__My name is King, I have a clogged drain in my shower that I need to fix 'cause I can't take showers now, and I don't own Death Note. _

---

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity." _

**CH02: ****Vulcan Salute**

Light hadn't slept at all the night that followed. The almost-9 PM turned into 10 and 11, and somewhere in-between he heard the front door open and close, or slam, depending on who came through it, he heard the late dinner call, then he heard nothing at all but his mother's quiet slippers tiptoeing to Light's closed door to see if her son was okay and why he hadn't answered her.

He ignored it all, and he ignored the time that slipped by at a steady liquid phase, but maybe it was just the late March midnight rain tapping against his window.

He lay curled up in his bed, still wearing his dress shirt, pants and belt, and all three twisted up and pressed against his skin like tight restrains, and he figured he should really change. But he didn't feel like it. Instead, he thrashed and turned, only to find himself curled up in the same position on a different side of the bed, with his belt still being pulled down and bruising his hips even more now.

He thought of Ryuzaki.

He tired to sleep, and nothing came out of it. His night wasn't that restless, either, it was rather phased and calm, and before it started feeling like a forever had passed, his alarm went off and he stood up and washed up, and changed into a fresh set of perfect, crisp clothes, but without the belt.

Then he heard fussing from the world outside of his room in his parent's house.

_You really need to move out, _he heard himself thinking.

_No. I'm fine where I am_, he told himself.

"Hey bro, you oka--- Oh _woaah_ there!" was Sayu's good-morning to him when he finally opened his door. She wore her college uniform already. When he politely raised an eyebrow at her, she pointed to something behind Light, way in the pits of his dwelling. "_Mess!_"

Light ignored the mess he had made the night before and figured that when he came back, it would still be there. And depending on the outcome of his day, he would either clean it, or turn to rest of his room to match the messes' likeness.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled at her and waved it off, but she wouldn't let it drop.

"Aha!" Sayu cheered as if she had caught him stealing chips before dinner, "I _knew_ it! When did _he_ leave?"

"Who?"

"Oh, _you know_."

It didn't take a genius to guess what Sayu was talking about. He did not have rough and room-jumbling sex with a stranger in his own house with his family across the hallway last night, thank you very much, Sayu.

"I am appalled that you have such a low opinion of me," he told Sayu diplomatically with a small grin.

"What if _dad_ finds out? He'll have you _skinned alive..!_ _Whatever_ shall you do to keep this a _secret_, hmm…" she told him in that over-dramatized manner that got her booted from the acting camp she went to when she was ten.

But Light wasn't going to give her anything, even as a joke.

"Tsk-tsk," Light said, playing the game better than she did, "Little sister. Always lying..."

Sayu laughed, and Light laughed, and it made him feel a little bit better.

"Aaanyway. Can you drop me off today? I don't feel like riding with _dad_. He keeps telling me how Matsuda's such a 'dashing' _young_ man, a 'well-established' and 'classy' and whatever, for the whole hour it takes me to get there... Ugh."

"Matsuda is a very good man," Soichiro agreed seriously as he passed them.

Light couldn't help but chuckle, and Sayu wrinkled her nose.

"I swear Light, _your_ father was just waiting for me to get legal so he could put me on the marriage conveyer and ship me off to some creep's basement," she whined to Light, accusingly.

Behind her, Soichiro laughed.

"She's right," he confirmed jokingly, "I will not have any more of my children stay in their parents' nest until they're twenty-three."

Light agreed to drop Sayu off, and she went downstairs to get breakfast.

"She's right, you know," said Soichiro, seriously this time. "You'll do well when you finally find a woman to match your impossibly high standards. It's her that I'm worried about."

Light had let it go.

"And by the way. Your department left eight messages on _my_ answering machine. Apparently they e-mailed you but you ignored them, and your phone was off."

"Oh, sorry about that. It ran out of battery," Light lied.

The police chief glanced behind Light and through the open doorway he was subconsciously blocking with his body.

"Really," he said, eyeing the bedlam.

"No. I dropped it under _that_, and then it ran out of battery so I forgot about it. I should probably get it now," he turned and went back in to find his charged phone and the phone chip he had pulled out.

"Something wrong, Light?" his father said.

"No! I mean, no. Yes. _Tea_."

"Oh," was all Soichiro said for a moment. Ryuzaki was a touchy subject. But when he went on about it, it made Light immediately angry. "About him. We'll be having a joint investigation; I got the memo this morning."

"What?"

Light had to get to work to find out 'what'.

Partly because they needed him to figure out what went on with Yotsuba.

---

The long string of script ran across the side window of his second internal monitor as Light typed against it, countering it with his own script override. It mutated from one variation to another, and tried to overtake Light's controls, but nothing came of it. With every target it went after, Light's fingers danced across the keyboard swiftly and booted his own version of it. Before the poor program could get as far as shutting down anything at all, Light identified the script mutation pattern, and launched its appropriate counterpart.

The two warring auto-scripts were transferred to his other side window to a long list of the Yotsuba firewall scripts Light defeated, merely flickering in the background as a waste of Light's CPU, neutralizing each other.

The countless scripts without an exit command or prompt were Yotsuba server's last enabled defense, and it took Light well over seven hours and four cups of coffee (that somebody helpfully brought him every time his cup ran dry) to get past them all.

This was the last of it.

Every one of the mutation strings had to be dealt with manually, and it was a pain in the ass, because as he did this, he had to stay hidden on the server, otherwise he would trigger an alarm and an army of manual hackers would go after him. A single typo would set it off, a single variation in his data weight would get him booted off the server.

It took him, and a small Cybercrimes army of people who basically brought him his own home-made scripts on USB keys and coffee from the capp machine, forever to get in, deal with the scripts and get past the fourth layer of Yotsuba defense.

"I'm in," Light announced and somebody actually clapped in the background as he stretched one arm and his sore muscles and tired bones whined and ached and cracked. He rubbed his eyes with that arm, because one arm was all he had in his disposal, his other typed away on the number pad.

Freely now, he hopped from one server to another, gathering boot and activity data from the triggers and disabled scripts that _he_ didn't disable.

It was his own little secret that the previous time he cracked Yotsuba open like a walnut, it took him well over fourteen hours. Partly because everything now dead was enabled, partially because the mutation scripts were a really big pain when he dealt with them the first time around.

He had done this before when he was doing his research on the L for no reasons other than natural curiosity. Of course, all that was highly illegal, and as far as the NPA was concerned the first time Light hacked Yotsuba was there and then, in the Cybercrimes office, with Yotsuba's explicit permission/_plea_.

They couldn't get into their own serves.

Somebody, and Light had a very certain feeling as to who it was, went ramming through the scripts and viruses and mutation strings and traps with a large pile of read-only files they subsequently wiped clean form the server.

And to add an insult to injury, they bared Yotsuba from their own computers.

It was hilarious.

Light launched a simple brute-force algorithm to recover at least _one_ password he could use to return the sever, and while the program was at it, he maneuvered between the double-entries into the directory of what he had a hunch was actually the target.

There was no indication of what was there in the first place, but Light _knew_. It was Yotsuba's precious L files; the whole L directory that consisted of one hundred and fifty separate servers to hold the _insanely_ large and divided files that had to be _all_ downloaded in order to compile and run.

When Light had first seen them, he couldn't believe that the external hard-drives he had prepared to download whatever Yotsuba was hiding were no enough to hold a hundredth of _one_ piece of it.

So instead, what he fished for were the data entry notes.

That is when he became immediately appalled, and almost disgusted.

An abbreviated L was just an employee name, the lead developer of the very same mutating strings and scripts Light defeated.

A second later, he was somehow booted from the server. He was hidden well so he was never tracked, and he had no further interest in Yotsuba's business anyway.

So he never came back.

But this time around, the entire stack of ridiculously high-capacity 150 servers were wiped clean and actually _downloaded_, at a ridiculous speed within an hour – something that had taken four days to upload according to server logs.

The total taken file size was 50 exabit.

_One_ Ebit was 1,048,576,000 gigabytes.

What the _flying fuck_ could do this?

But Light 'didn't know' what was there and how much of it was stolen until and if Yotsuba told him.

Light had a feeling it was years and years of backup data.

But anyway.

He collected the data transfer and access logs, recovered a password and passed it on.

His day of work should have been over at that, instead he got off from his comfortable chair he as good as blackmailed his supervisor into buying for him. His shoulders, lower back and bottom were sore for work-related reasons. He stretched, wiped his tired eyes again, grabbed a netbook and the data he logged and made his way to the squad meeting room.

His father was there, and he, and his usual team and twenty or so other officers, as well as a people who looked like Yotsuba lawyers and representatives greeted him silently.

Whatever they were talking to was forgotten.

"Well?"

Light sat down, and his lower back cried in discontent. He wanted to go home, or get laid. More than anything.

"Bad news-good news," he informed the people curtly and cracked open the small laptop.

"Your /L directory was downloaded and wiped clean with absolutely no recovery possibility."

He clicked something, and a table popped up.

"In the past three months, there were fourteen hackers detected on your server. Only _two_ of these hackers made it past _all _of your defenses and had a good look at the missing L directory."

"Good news, Light?"

"Well, it is safe to assume one of them, or both, took the files."

Light clicked something else, and something else irrelevant popped up on his screen. The officers pretended they completely understood the data, which it fact was Light's un-extracted Minesweeper score chart.

"The first hack was on February 18th, roughly four weeks ago. It's safe to assume it was Kira," who was Light.

"The second one was only four _hours_ later," because Kira bragged, "but their means are drastically different. I have no doubt it's Matt."

Matt.

The Matt.

Light hated The Matt.

He _irked_ him.

Matt was _irksome_.

"And how are we with figuring out who those two are?"

"The same we were years ago. _Nowhere_. Sorry."

Somebody muttered something about "damn hackers, need a life..."

"I wasn't done with the bad news," Light insulted the man back. "Whoever did it also took off with 12% of Yotsuba's value. 2 billion dollars."

But it wasn't Kira who did it, because Light wouldn't even dream of doing something as idiotic as stealing 50 billion gigabytes of useless data out of sheer curiosity, and he would have no fucking idea how to do it in the first place.

That left Matt.

But Matt was busy boting and scripting Call of Duty and Guitar Hero battles, and wasting his time, and taunting Light, and wasting Light's time. Light liked to think Matt was very much below him in his abilities, but that was actually hardly the case.

It was that, Matt could have been a completely _retarded_ 'newb' for all Light cared, but Matt still wouldn't be able t pull this off, and he really wasn't that stupid to even _try_.

This left nobody under real suspicion.

But what _Tea_, 'Ryuzaki 'managed to do the night before, it was _beautiful_.

And with the context of this in mind, it could have well been Ryuzaki.

And Ryuzaki didn't irk Light like Matt did.

It didn't force him into fits of hidden rage or jealousy.

It made him want to catch Ryuzaki, in real life, and stare at him and… almost admire him.

And then fuck him hard.

What did Ryuzaki look like?

A man.

Not a greasy fat man with smelly hair and cheese all over his fingers like an average computer hacker, but a slim man.

Much shorter than Light, about 5'2, just to make sure Light's dominance over him was clear.

Nice legs.

Nice fingers. Clean, long fingernails, like Light's.

Smooth, fragile skin. So easy to break.

_Mmm..._

"-Light-san?"

"-No, I don't know how it was done yet, or how they weren't detected on the servers at all." Light snapped out of his half-asleep delirium.

There was something, though. Something he really wanted to know how Ryuzaki did, something that made him excited about catching Ryuzaki violate his computers again.

There was nobody on the server at the time of the hacking or through the entire course of it. No Yotsuba staff, and no hackers.

It was like nobody ever entered the server.

All of the mutation strings and scripts and viruses, all of them were perfectly intact until they were rammed and broken through with the huge file in tow.

It didn't look like someone broke into the servers and stole the files.

It was like… someone broke _out_ of the servers.

And with Ryuzaki chatting with Light from a fucking Verizon Satellite up in _space_, Light really wanted to know how this invisible ghosting was done.

* * *

"There is a file-folder on my desktop with names and pictures of criminals. There're only five of them; I want to see how you do. Make sure it's only the criminals who die this time, understood? I also want an e-mail address I could send more names to so I don't have to wait for you to show up all night."

For the longest time, Ryuzaki's metallic voice remained silent.

"…I have to admit I thought my actions last night would coarse Light-san into doing my bidding as they were a demonstration of what I am capable of doing to Light-san _himself_ at any given moment. They were an intimidation tactic, not… an encouragement."

A pleasant jolt ran down Light's spine as he watched Ryuzaki manually enslave his Netbook. The IM window minimized and the mouse cursor waltzed across his screen to the dedicated folder without Light touching the mousepad. There were twenty folders on his desktop, and Ryuzaki got the correct one from the first try.

A grin tagged at Light's lips.

"I see," Ryuzaki said eventually. "Raito-san is serious about this. I am rather appalled."

"You don't want to do this at all, do you?"

"No, I do not want to do this at all."

"Listen, Ryuzaki," Light began righteously, "this world is rotten. It is spoiled by criminals---"

"Yes-yes, I understand Light-san's skewed justice ideal. It is repeated _infinitely_ throughout his blogs; frankly I do not want to hear this again."

Light furrowed his eyebrows, but not at the notion that Ryuzaki knew absolutely everything there was to know about him, and he knew virtually nothing about Ryuzaki. He had already realized and accepted the fate of his privacy; it was the interruption of his justice speech that made him annoyed.

"Well, you'll do it anyway," he cut to the chase. "Clearly that's not your morals speaking, considering you had no problem blowing up a building full of people to prove a point."

"Ah. Make no mistake about this; I have no problem with this, moral or otherwise."

"So what are you waiting for?" Light nudged him.

"Good timing, for one. Also, answers. Why does Light-san insist on the name he had given me?"

Because Light felt entitlement when he used 'Ryuzaki', that's why. It made him feel like he felt when he realized Ryuzaki would take out rotten criminals, one by one, as Light would order him to. It made him feel empowered.

It made him feel that billions and billions of bytes across the world of the net, Ryuzaki was _his_.

He named him, therefore he owned him. No matter where Ryuzaki was and what he did, he would still carry Light's label. And nobody else would _dare_ come near him, or dare to touch him, or grab him, or force him scream, or drive into him, not before Light got him.

Because he was Light's.

Because Light found him first, mounted him first, and drove his own flag though him.

Of course, Light told him nothing of this.

"Because I have to call you something. Because we're _friends_, and _friends_ call each other by names. We're friends, Ryuzaki, right?"

Ryuzaki said nothing.

Instead, he remotely opened Light's browser and logged into Light's e-mail account.

Clicked an add contacts bar, and typed:

_Sugar_Tea16 at hotmail dot com. _

_For emergencies only. _

Figures.

Light laughed.

"Thank you, Ryuzaki," Light lied the gratitude pleasantly.

"I am not done, Light-_kun_."

Light took the stab at the honorific personally, and a moment later realized that was the intention.

Did Ryuzaki know about his secret fixation? Did he know that as of very recently, Light couldn't get him off his mind? Did he know it was _sexual_? Could he hack into Light's _mind_?

No, seriously?

His Ryuzaki was smart.

Better than net-smart.

_Better_.

Ryuzaki stabbed his age with that honorific; he as good as said, 'Raito-_chan_, you may have a nice wet dream about me tonight, but at the end of the day, I as good as own your online life, and I am older than you, and so you may try, but you're not going to score because you're here, and I'm all the way over there, and you can't catch me, and I like sugar in my tea.'

Well, maybe not.

Light's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out to see something glorious once again. He caught a glimpse at a text over-write of his phone's OC before the menu and tools changed their layout and icons.

A prompt poped up, asking Light to _Submit_ or _Cancel_ the changes.

Light waited for Ryuzaki to press _Submit_, but when nothing happened Light realized Ryuzaki wanted him to 'push the switch himself'.

How poetic.

"I will contact Light-kun on this phone, and all Light-kun will need is to plug this phone into a server or a computer I specify."

"That's it?"

Light was about to press _Submit_, but Ryuzaki interrupted him again.

"My portion of the contract is harmless to people - it is a simple data transfer that can be erased at any time," he droned through the voice scrambler, and Light wondered if _his_ Ryuzaki really sounded like a boring politician. "Light-kun's portion is _murder_. Murder, or any kind for any reasons, is unforgivable."

It sounded like Ryuzaki didn't care at all about the criminals, and didn't see it as himself doing the 'murder', but rather Light was the one doing the 'murder' with Ryuzaki as a surrogate _Submit_ or _Cancel_ program.

Not that it mattered, but Light assumed all responsibility for what was to come already.

They were just criminals.

"I caution Light-kun against proceeding with this. Nothing good will come out of playing God. Please, Light-kun. Reconsider; none of this can be undone. Are you absolutely sure you want to proceed?"

Light only rolled his eyes at Ryuzaki's warning.

"Do it, Ryuzaki."

* * *

**A/**N: THANK YOU TO MY FIRST EARLY-BIRD REVIEWERS:** DarkAngelJudas, Nardaviel, DNLover02, WinterLuvNaruto, Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, Kittycat-popko, Dex Jerkon, ., The Sora-muffin, Emeraldko, ellan54, Lawlies, The Princess of Whatever, BloodyShinigami, **and** Virola! **I was all like, _gleeful_ when I realized I had people follow me around, as well as I got new people, too. I love you all, thank you!

Why was the update so fast? 'Cause I didn't expect so many of you! ;D This is a thank-you gift. ILU!

**Well anyway. That wraps up the setting and sets a stage for the rest of the story. XD **

**We got Ryuzaki and Light make the contract, we got Light having sex fantasies already, we got weird-ass cyber stuff that according to Light makes no sense. **

**Impressions?**

**Magic Button plz. **

**CH03: Peer-to-Peer**

**Click, type, press submit. **

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	3. Peer to Peer

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, I really need to pee all the freaking time, and I don't own Death Note.

---

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity." _

**CH03: Peer-to-Peer**

What did Ryuzaki look like?

Was he a flamboyant westerner with light sandy hair and bright eyes? His Japanese was just so perfectly dialect-neutral Light couldn't place an authenticity onto him, and the metallic voice scrambler didn't help at all. But a flamboyant, feminine westerner felt like such a disappointment that Light lazily moved his gaze across the small crowd of barely-legal boys in the counter.

No, to go with his neutral Japanese, Ryuzaki's appearance had to be neutral, too. He would have black hair, shiny clean and well-groomed.

Ryuzaki would defy the definition of an appearance-neglecting hacker much like Light did; Ryuzaki would be first of all _slim_. Slim, thin and small. About 5-foot short. With black, shiny well-groomed hair, in glasses. His drink would be an Appletini – something that would go well with his whole theme of _sugar_ and _sweet-16 girliness_, and he would wear a college uniform, and he would sit quietly near the washrooms, sipping his Appletini, shyly waiting for someone to approach him.

Light caught his gaze, and the gullible boy looked down, most likely blushing.

_A virgin_.

Light grinned.

_Easy_. He ordered a refill of his smooth whiskey and an Appletini, paid with a credit card and left a tip, and the bartender winked a good-luck to him.

Light stood up with both drinks at hand and turned towards his pray, letting the poor kid absorb the information. He stared at Light with wide eyes, clearly understanding where Light was headed and _what he was going to make him do,_ but he sat still, unable to turn away or run. Light held him in place with his gaze.

This one looked like a screamer, but hell. For tonight, this is what Ryuzaki looked like.

Light was about to start his slow, teasing stride towards him having made his intentions clear, but something black and red sliced the ropes of his eye contact.

A black dress-shirt and a red tie.

Ink on fingers.

A briefcase.

A jacket under one arm.

Without tipping his chin to acknowledge the man's height, Light stared at him from under his bangs without any interest.

Sharp eyes, framed Dior glasses.

The man seemed to ignore Light's disinterest. He plucked the thin Appletini stem from Light's fingers and took a sip of it, leaving some to glisten on his lips.

He smiled in what he thought was a seductive grin.

Out of the corner of his eye, Light saw the shy college kid he was so close to luring in and deflowering, it almost felt like a loss. The petite man ran – _ran_ towards the bar exit as soon as there was no mesmerizing soul-gripping stare tying him to his seat.

"There goes my date," said Light dryly, following the retreating pray with his eyes.

Instead of apologizing, the tall man casually lowered himself to a bar stool and looked up at Light who was left to stand over him with a whiskey.

"Teru Mikami," the man introduced himself in a welcoming, low voice.

"I wasn't looking for names."

Teru Mikami sipped Light's Appletini again and leaned closer, his head inches away from Light's stomach, and tilted his head upwards. "Well, whatever you were looking for, you found it," he whispered.

Well… at least Teru Mikami had black hair. Light supposed that on his knees with Light's cock in his mouth, Teru Mikami would be of sufficient height.

* * *

"Kill him. Burn him alive. Crash a meteor into him. I don't care. Just… make him go away."

"Light-kun is not serious."

"I am very serious! Look at the folder: his name and picture are in it. So just kill him!"

"That man is not a criminal."

"Not a criminal? Ha _ha_!" Light spat out a phony laughter as he hectically phased back and forth around the little netbook on his desk. "He's a criminal like you have no idea. He _kidnapped_ my cellpone number while I was in the shower, he called me eighteen times _today_ alone, he threatened to kill himself if I don't pick up, and then he threatened to show up at my work if I don't pick up. That's theft, stalking, and just… terrorism!"

"It sounds to me like Light-kun has an admirer."

"Ugh! Just… get rid of him… _please_!"

"That man is not a criminal."

"So what!"

"My part of the contract has to do with deaths of criminals. That man is not a criminal, he is a lawyer in fact, and as far I am concerned –"

"Fine! Mess with his records and put him into an asylum then! He may not be a criminal, but he's insane!"

"No."

"Why you little-- _bastard_! You just like seeing him drive _me_ insane, don't you!"

"Yes."

Light huffed out the last of his frustrations, closed his eyes and took a deep breath that was supposed to be relaxing. He sat down on his bed slowly. Behind the closed door of his room in his parents' house, Sayu shuffled around curiously, trying to overhear what was going on.

The soundproof door he had installed just to make a point that his family should stop trying to spy on him could do only that much when he had paper-thin walls, and Light wondered for how much longer he could get away with commissioning executions of criminals so openly.

He was about to calm down and stop acting like a brat – and being a brat was something he really felt like doing, and it was also something he did to 'open up' to Ryuzaki for pretend and hence make the hacker trust him more. He didn't know if it worked or not, but at some point he didn't care anymore, and just ranted away because being childish made him feel somehow liberated.

But he was done with his tirade – or at least he thought he was, because at that moment of final tranquility his phone started vibrating, and praying for the best Light checked the caller ID.

_Teru Mikami_

Light chucked the phone to the floor.

"Kill him now, _or else_!"

"No."

"Oh, that's it!"

Light jumped into his desk chair, and Ryuzaki realized what was going to happen because…

_sugar_tea16 signed off. _

…the little bastard ran away, fast.

Light pulled the Ethernet plug from the netbook and connected the miniature to the bigger, much more powerful laptop with now a very secure internet connection and pulled up the netbook access logs, locked on Ryuzaki's IP and _chased_ that bastard across the net.

And could Ryuzaki run.

The automatic redirectors were no match for Light, but in the three seconds it took Light to counter them with his own arsenal of little home-made special somethings, Ryuzaki started firing massive amounts of random packets at random computers manually, making it look like he could have come from any one of them.

Where did he go?

Light scanned through the long list of IPs in his side window that his tracker spit into. There were hundreds of them.

Light sorted them by OC and cleared his list of anything older than Windows XP, which took out three-quarters of the IPs. No self-respecting hacker would run XP or even Vista, though Light knew Matt ran a _very_ modified Vista to piss off any internet user with an ounce of self-respect and dignity.

So he kept Vista on his list just in case the object of his sexual frustrations happened to be Matt.

_Oh God. _

Light shook his head and swallowed bile.

No way.

He cleared the Vistas too, and took out the whole British Island while he was at it.

With about a hundred addresses left to work with, Light just stared at them, and the wall of numbers felt like a roadblock. And then Light had a hunch, and he searched for his own IP on the list. It was there. So he treated his own computer as a redirector, and soon came to a secure electric circuit distributor server.

A moment later, he was sending out redirectors and firing packets himself because someone was tracking him, and Light, chanting _'shit-shit-shit'_ in his mind realized where Ryuzaki had sent him.

And so Light jumped around from continent to continent, with some bastard security techie hot oh his tail, and Light bought himself just barely enough time with an unprepared script attack to get a lock on the tracker's computer and bombard it with gay porn and malware while he corrupted the server's access log.

He shut him down and pulled up all the after-hack security he wasn't even prepared to use that day, because he wasn't planning on hacking servers and running away from their security.

The little bastard Ryuzaki had sent him to the distributing server of an electric station, almost making Light leave his virtual DNA all over it. It would have been fine otherwise, but Light knew about a certain someone hacking into electric stations and short-circuiting electricity to cause fires in the homes of certain criminals.

_Fuck_.

His precious little Ryuzaki just tried to set him up.

_What the fuck. _

His phone vibrated again right by his foot, and Light had a sudden urge to crush it.

He checked it, annoyed.

It was his first text that day that didn't come from Teru Mikami. Instead, the text came from an unlisted number that read 798-9154, and Light rolled his eyes as soon as he realized whose _not_-name the numbers spelled out in letters on the phone's number pad.

And it wasn't a heart-felt apology for almost setting him up out of the blue, either.

He skimmed through the text.

Ryuzaki wanted him to do _what_?

Grudgingly, he logged onto the little black netbook's IM.

"_No_," he told it.

"That is Light-kun's portion of the contract and Raito-kun has no-"

"You don't set people up and expect them to do you favors forty seconds later, it doesn't work that way."

"It was done to ensure Light-kun will keep his word. Raito-kun has corrupted the access logs of the electrical station, but I have backed them up. Restoration attempts of these access logs are being made as we speak, and if thank to me these efforts are successful, Light-kun will be suspected of murdering criminals very early on in his campaign for justice. Treat this as a threat."

To say this surprised Light or was in any way unexpected would have been a lie, and he had no plans on acting shocked.

After all, there was nothing tying either of them to any parts of their deal; Light had cleansed the world of only six criminals so far, and Ryuzaki received nothing at all.

This was only day two.

So a counter threat from his side was in order, but Light had none. It made the hairs along his spine stand; it excited him a little, other than making him livid of course. He noticed his clenched fist and relaxed it with a reassuring sigh. _Take this as a lesson_, he told himself. _This bastard is vicious; he'll sell you out as soon as he doesn't need you anymore. But you knew this. From now on, don't do anything hasty. Catch him. You will catch him, you will find out who he is, you will blackmail him, and you will have him on his knees soon. But before that, don't provoke him._

And so Light agreed to sneak into the same electric station Ryuzaki was blackmailing him with and manually install a by-pass for a firewall that automatically disabled internet if any part of the system was accessed from outside of the building.

It was ironic that the only server protected by such an old and useless measure was a data server that had nothing to do with the distribution grid, and it was ironic that this ancient and useless measure was what blocked Ryuzaki from whatever it was that he was doing.

But that was for tomorrow, and his clock read 10PM.

Light lost his pants and jacket, leaving him in a weird combination of boxers, shirt and tie that he didn't feel like putting effort into discarding, and flopped onto his bed. With the netbook camera blind, Ryuzaki couldn't see him anyway.

"What did you take from Yotsuba?" he put his arms behind his head and waited.

But Ryuzaki said nothing, and eventually Light felt his head sink into the pillow under it, and his tie was no longer annoying his vision as a great stripe of bright blue against the white sheets.

He realized just how tired he was only when his tiredness was about to be cured by _sleep_.

And he forgot about the tie and the sleep, and he forgot about Ryuzaki and the question that was left hanging in the air, because the air itself was being sucked out of him. His soul was leaving to wonder the dreamlands, and his eyelids would no-longer open.

Sleep.

Finally.

He was almost… aslee-

"Light-kun should sleep," Ryuzaki woke him up.

Light screwed his eyelids shut.

"Really, genius?" he grit his teeth.

"Light-kun had not slept in over 48 hours; I think Light-kun should sleep."

"I am flattered by your deep concern, Ryuzaki," he groaned into the pillow.

"I am concerned for Light-kun because we are _friends_."

"You have no friends?"

"I have one friend."

"You need a life."

"Ah, I need some tea. Excuse me."

Light couldn't tell if Ryuzaki was joking. Did he take him seriously when he told him they were friends? He knew Light meant the complete opposite, _right_?

Whatever Light wanted Ryuzaki to be, it was the furthest thing from 'friends' – Light didn't like Ryuzaki, or anybody else at all for that matter; he found Ryuzaki entertaining and good enough to serve as a naked prize on his bed… surely, Ryuzaki understood that. Everybody understood that internet friends had purpose to serve, and as soon as that purpose expired, an imminent - but polite - deletion from a friendlist was in order. Nobody on internet was gullible enough to take clear sarcasm seriously unless they were under twelve.

But Ryuzaki... he just wanted to talk to somebody, about anything. This was the reason hadn't logged off and left Light alone yet.

What a depressing existence that must be.

"What kind of tea?" Light tried to fish, but the soft blanket of sleep started weaving its cocoon around him again.

Ryuzaki said nothing.

"What kind of tea? Friends tell friends everything, Ryuzaki."

"Yes, Light-kun. It is mint tea."

_Ah. _

"Hmm. Ryuzaki?" Light muttered, the hair of his bangs caught in his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks.

"Yes, Light-kun."

Light's consciousness was slipping away, and a very welcome heaviness was filling his joints. He was falling asleep on the spot.

"What did you take from Yotsuba?"

There it was again.

The silence.

The I-am-going-to-keep-Light-kun-in-suspense silence, the once that practically shouted of Ryuzaki, sitting somewhere far away and bathing in the soft blue monitor glow, contently sipping his sugar tea without any intention of answering.

Or maybe Ryuzaki was not as far away as Light thought; maybe somewhere nearby, Ryuzaki had his head rested in his arms near a keyboard, and the top of his black hair was bathing in soft blue monitor glow, because like Light Ryuzaki was falling asleep too. Next to him, a tea cup stood empty, with molten sugar residue smeared all over the bottom. So close.

So close, just at Light's fingertips, but so far away...

"..well?" he managed. In the lull of sleep, Light saw a vision of Ryuzaki, nameless and faceless, with nice black hair and a laptop under one arm, walking away from Light, and Light was chasing him. His fingertips touched the rim of Ryuzaki's shirt – Light didn't know what color, but as he brushed against the shirt in his half-dream, he saw himself as a child, grabbing onto an adult and letting Ryuzaki lead, and show him, and this… this wasn't...

"I took a file," Ryuzaki confessed eventually and Light just barely heard him. "I apologize, that was a lie. I _took_ nothing. But it was a file."

"Was it an AI?"

His own question shook Light awake again when he realized what the hell he had just asked.

It was bothering him for a while; the speed and technology Ryuzaki was hacking everything with just did not exist yet. And according to what Light had seen, it was impossible to bypass security of an electric station with such _ease_ and speed and complete anonymity.

Light saw exactly what Ryuzaki was capable of as he investigated him, and while it was impressive, it was still possible.

What Light had seen him do very recently was _not_.

An Artificial Intelligence thread specializing in hackings, in theory, could have learned what to do with security and how to pass through it undetected by doing a preliminary scan of the system – something hackers had to do tediously and manually.

So was this Ryuzaki's secret? An unheard-of hacking AI program that was still years and years away in development, and decades away from being applicable?

Yotsuba made it?

"I would like to stress that whatever it is, I am not using as methods of hackings."

"Oh?" seriously. Did Ryuzaki hack his brain? _Seriously..!_

"I repeat and I stress, whatever it is, I am **not** using it as methods of hackings. My hackings are done by myself alone, and I take pride in this."

"Okay, so what is it? You should tell me."

"…I see. I will answer this if Light-kun answers something he seems to have quite an extended knowledge in."

Light sat up on his bed and crossed his legs. He looked at the netbook as if this was a face-to-face conversation, despite the post-it he insistently kept over the web-cam's eye.

"What is it?" He wanted to know. He wanted a confirmation. Whatever Ryuzaki asked him, be it about the first time he was fucked by a senior in the collage locker room, or be it about hair products.

"How does Light-kun feel about _death_?"

The question caught him off-guard, and the pause provoked Ryuzaki to ask again. Curious thing, he was.

"Death, Light-kun. What is it like to die?"

"I don't know, I haven't died yet," Light shrugged unconsciously, confused and amused at the same time.

"This is a lie."

"So I'm dead?" a laugh.

"Mostly, yes."

"Really?"

"Let me ask it another way then, is Light-kun a God?"

Another question Light wasn't prepared to answer; it was something he kept to himself for the whole two days he stood on top of Olympus as he judged sinners.

Criminals.

The filth and the sewage of good people.

They had to be cleansed off the face of the world.

This was such a certainty that Light didn't hesitate for a moment to debate the very notion of this with himself.

Ever since the opportunity to create a better world hacked his computers, he knew what had to be done.

And so he did what had to be done.

And so he became a God.

And Ryuzaki, his Ryuzaki who just needed a little guidance, his Ryuzaki apparently recognized this quickly.

"Yes, I am a God," Light answered.

"But before you became a God, you were just a man. As a man, you have died, and now you are a God. So I am asking Light-kun what it is like to die."

Light died?

He hadn't even felt it.

Light told Ryuzaki this.

The metallic voice hummed in acknowledgement.

"The Yotsuba L file is an AI," it told Light finally.

* * *

It was nearly three in the morning, and Light could not recapture the sleep that Ryuzaki apparently kidnapped from him.

It didn't take a genius to put a few things together.

_One of Ryuzaki's original locations was an air-tight Yotsuba server._

_Something enormous "broke out" of Yotsuba recently. _

_Shortly after, Ryuzaki came to Light with manual requests. _

_Then, Ryuzaki proved to be capable of unimaginable hackings. _

_A few hours ago, Ryuzaki told Light he didn't "take" anything from Yotsuba. _

_But what supposedly came out of Yotsuba by itself was an AI._

_Then Ryuzaki started asking weird questions about humanly things, like death. _

So…

The L was Ryuzaki who was an AI that ran away from Yotsuba.

Light stared at his ceiling.

_Oh hell no._ That would prove sex to be very difficult, and it would not make a very good story. With everything that seemingly fell onto his head out of nowhere in these past two nights that were completely sleepless, Light knew there would be more to it than just that.

So he thought about things.

He imagined what he knew would come eventually: his capture as a God. But because what he did was done with the purest intentions, this simple fact didn't feel disappointing, not yet.

He imagined Ryuzaki, whoever or _what_ever he was, roaming the internet and doing Light's righteous bidding. For the moment, Light saw no reason Ryuzaki would do anything else.

Because really, if Ryuzaki was an AI, he was a program, and programs acted on simple command prompts.

Light saw no flaw in this.

But the ringing.

The thin ringing in his ears grew louder more he entertained the idea that Ryuzaki could be just a large, fat pile of bytes stapled together by command options.

How would he fuck that?

The AI idea was thrilling, but it made him livid that some lame techie put together an AI before Light did, and that would make Ryuzaki belong to somebody else.

And it made him frustrated.

Sexually.

Very much so.

So without as much as a wink of sleep in over two days, grumpy, frustrated and running on caffeine blood, Light got off his bed and changed his crumpled work clothes.

The little netbook that had long ago turned off its monitor suddenly spoke up; apparently it heard all the noise Light was making.

"Light-kun?"

"What?" Light snapped for no reason.

"Where is Light-kun going at three zero four in the morning?"

Light wanted to tell him something about humanly needs real people had, but with a sudden glimmer of intelligence from within his very tired and paranoid mind Light decided against making ridiculous assumptions.

AI, yeah _sure_. _Riight_.

"Out," he told Ryuzaki, much more pleasantly.

"To do what, Light-kun?"

"What do you _think_?"

Light had no doubt in his mind that Ryuzaki already knew about his addictions that had to do with clubs, nights, men, and sex.

The rhetorical question was rhetorical.

_Ryuzaki… seriously. Please don't answer that. _

"I think Light-kun is going out to a bar to have gay sex with a stranger," Ryuzaki answered.

"Oh god," Light chocked on his own saliva in horror, "okay... You actually answered that. Okay. _Yes_, I am going out to do exactly that, Ryuzaki. And unless you plan on joining me, mind your own business."

"I am not going to have gay sex with Light-kun because I do not like men."

_We'll see about that when I'm done with you. _

"Yeah, sure. Bye now."

"Light-kun!"

"What?"

"Wait."

"What now?"

"I don't think Light-kun should go out to a bar to have gay sex with a stranger."

"Bye-bye Ryuzaki!"

"Wait. I think Light-kun is simply _frustrated_ with his current predicament."

_Why the hell do you care? _

"Yes, genius." Light rolled his eyes, reaching for the doorknob. "We call it 'sexually', and we have 'sex' to fix it."

"To me, it sounds as if Light-kun just needs to talk to _somebody_." Ryuzaki hinted.

_Because we're friends. _

Ha ha _ha._

Light left.

Not wanting to start his car and wake curious Sayu whose bedroom happened to be just above the garage, and for the most part wanting to avoid the temptation of driving drunk, Light walked.

Then, he took a bus.

It was a short ride.

Because Teru Mikami had probably spent his night looking for Light, the first bar the psycho searched and left was likely the bar Light had the misfortune of meeting him at.

And so, Light went to that bar.

Swift as a ninja spy at four in the morning, Light slipped through the doors unnoticed, and surveyed the bar for Teru Mikami, ready to run for his life.

For the most part, the place was empty. Teru Mikami was not there. But no suitable men were there, either. Not that Light minded. He was aiming for the bartender.

He looked around the bar counter for the target bartender, but found his visibility field obstructed.

Something was blocking his view.

It was a black shock of rather large _hair_.

And odd-looking man in a white three-quarter sleeve shirt and the most ridiculous hair Light had ever seen on a grown man sat alone in the dead-center of the long bar table.

He had his legs folded under himself on the stool, and somehow managed to be slouched and relaxed as he sat that way. In public.

He stared aimlessly at the differently-colored bottles behind the bartender with his bored, blank eyes, and in the bar's dim lighting made his irises look as black as his hair. Completely fascinated by the bottles, he was completely submerged into an alternate universe as if everything around him wasn't happening.

A lock of hair landed on his nose and the man ignored it also, and Light felt a ping of jealousy at his absolute denial of reality.

But not enough to get him interested.

The man was likely high, and wondered into a gay bar in his unconscious stupor. Light could tell, Light could _see_ right through him; this man was never with another man in his entire life, not with that hair and those clothes; he hadn't ever as much as thought of it.

He set down two chairs away, and the bartender who Light realized was fussing with a drink waved him that he'll be right over.

He surveyed the empty bar. The couples were already paired, and everyone else left; it was almost four in the morning on a Tuesday, and the bar closed at four. But he didn't mind; the quiet hum of the mostly empty bar was much more welcome than the faint, thin ringing in his ears.

"Here you go, sir," Light heard the bartender tell the disheveled man as he handed him a plain glass. "Never had anyone order an original Red Russians before."

The man droned something, and the bartender finally came to Light.

"What will it be?" he said, "and please order something we from planet Earth know how to make, it's almost closing time" he added, just for Light to hear.

Light politely asked for a whisky, and the weird man with an apparently equally weird drink stared at the pretty bottles.

Light looked at the drink in question from the corner of his eye.

Red Russians were just Jello shots, and what the man had was a glass of mucky brown substance that steamed, and stood untouched in front of him. The drink made Light mildly curious, a lot more than the man himself did.

With nothing really to do for the next twenty or so minutes he had left until the bar closed, he asked what Red Russians was.

"You want one?" the bartender asked him, "I still got the kettle hot. Though I won't advise it, it tastes like shit."

"Kettle?"

But the black-haired man waved the bartender over, and the bartender rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"It's mostly raw vodka, with mint tea."

Light hummed a bored 'ah-huh' without making any connections, and he didn't whip his head around to stare at the weird man with the weird drink _until_ he heard a low monotone drone drawn out the dull hum of the bar.

"Ah, but the Bartender-san has forgotten to put the sugar into this."

* * *

**A/N:** And the plot thickens…

**L:** Dun dun dun desu.

**Light:** So wait, you're not, but you are. But then you're not, apparently, 'cause you're at the bar, in all your IRL glory. Wait, what? And where are the yellow one and the white one?

**L:** Light-kun should concern his searches with Matt-kun instead. Matt-kun has all the answers Light-kun wants. Light-kun should talk to Matt-kun about this, in the next chapter perhaps?

**Light:** Why don't I just ask you?

**L:** Because I am not going to stay for long, Light-kun. I am leaving on a jet plane; do not know if I will be back again...

**Light:** …that doesn't really work with your speech patterns.

AGAIN, THIS REDICULOUSLY QUICK UPDATE IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE FOLLOWING PEOPLE WHO REVIEWED AND WHOM I LOVE VERY MUCH: **Viciada desde 2005, merichuel, The Musical Muffin, Yoshiluvr, fan-fan31, Viyola, Ms Random Freak, yellowrose87, ellan54, Keyinei, Rike-sama, sayuri2023, WinterLuvNaruto, Cici000, Nardaviel, Anemone Kurosaki, DarkAngelJudas, BloodyShinigami, Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, DNLover02, Lawlies, Kittycat-popko, MistressColdblood, LadyKadaj, PinkBlueDiamond, Karenai, PaperMasque **and **ArtistOfLight!**

**Holy crap guys. I just beat the initial stats of DT twice over. O-O;**

**THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH TO ALL FOR READING AND REVIEWING, I LOVE YOU!**

…**and now you're all like, "uhh, so L and Light meet IRL, the end. Okay, buh-bye now!" **

**COME BACK HERE!**

**CH04: Cybersex**

("to talk," huh… I told you you'll come back…)

Magic button made me spit out 3 chapters in a week.

But SERIOUSLY. What the hell do you think is going on…?

Umm. Yeah. 27 chapters to go. ILU.

**MAGIC BUTTON. **

**PRESS.**

l

l

l

V


	4. Cybersex

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, okay, beer stimulates writing, seriously. I am telling you, it does, and I don't own Death Note.

---

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity." _

**CH04: Cybersex**

He looked so real.

So real in fact, that when Light chanted "so real, so real, so real" in his mind fast enough, the words "so real" merged and started sounding "surreal" instead of what they were meant to be.

The flawless, pale skin looked artificially smooth in the glow of the bar, then the streetlights, so fake in fact that Light was afraid of taking Ryuzaki outside into the spitting rain, in case he short-circuited or something.

"Are you cold?" Light said as he watched Ryuzaki drag his feet through puddles as he walked next to him. "Here, take my jacket."

Ryuzaki politely refused.

"I have already accepted Light-kun's invitation into a hotel room, and despite _the talking_ and only _the talking_ that we shall be doing in this hotel room, I still find this rather awkward," Ryuzaki explained.

The fact that the hotel clerk knew Light and gave him an unsettling wink as they checked in did not help to put Ryuzaki at ease. At all.

Nevertheless, suddenly indifferent to Light's raised eyebrow, he chose to hop onto the bed and sit on top the pillows with his knees drawn protectively to his chest. The weird position looked so ridiculous that if it wasn't for the long and bony typist fingers Ryuzaki had, Light would have had hard time convincing himself the man before him was a genius hacker or possibly an AI, and not a hermit who lived in a cave.

To show no mercy, Light planted himself on the other end of the bed, far enough from Ryuzaki to keep him comfortable.

The tired, dark circles underneath the distant and politely bored black eyes made Ryuzaki look like he had never slept at all in his entire life, and Light made a point not to stare too much, although the man didn't seem to mind. What he found out more important was the red, thick line across the blanket – some cheep designer's attempt to be fancy no doubt, but the line ran across the bed and between them.

Ryuzaki silently instated the red strip as a line that should not be crossed, and Light temporarily agreed to oblige.

The man looked like he would run if Light was to spook him, and considering Light ultimately wanted sex, and Ryuzaki had no intention of giving it to him, spooking the man so early would be stupid.

"So Ryuzaki," Light humored him, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I think Light-kun should stop killing criminals."

"Short and straight to the point," Light quipped louder than necessary - all the initial excitement of actually meeting Ryuzaki in _flesh_ that he kept bottled up for good twenty minutes suddenly exploded out of him. "I love it!"

Amused, Ryuzaki did a very unenthusiastic clap to accompany the outburst.

Light chuckled and smiled charmingly.

"I already explained it to you. Or you didn't get it..?"

"Oh no," Ryuzaki droned, "I understood what Light-kun meant, however I would like to reinstate my caution. Nothing good comes from playing God."

"That's what you came to talk to me about, really?" Light himself was surprised how quickly he dismissed him. "And nothing good, are you sure about that? Last night, a civil judge died. A judge who for years would give underage mothers custody of their children only if these girls would let him fuck them in every hole they had. Nothing good came out of it? You sure?"

"It indeed may have been good for the world; I have not doubted Light-kun's good intentions."

"Then why should I stop killing criminals?"

"It is bad for Light-kun's character."

"What," Light laughed again, "you care about my character? I assure you, my character is very noble."

"Yes, I have not doubted Light-kun's present state of character, either. I will tell Light-kun one truth, and this truth is partly the reason I have come to see him. When people play Gods, nothing good comes from it. Eventually, their character and all their good will and all their noble intent – it all erodes away."

"I will not stop wanting to punish criminals, if that's what-"

"No-no, Light-kun. Nothing like that." Ryuzaki comically shook his head and his black locks tossed around and eventually came to a stop in the exact disarray they were before. "In the end, all that will be left of human God is his Godly Wrath. Nothing more. This is why I think Light-kun should stop killing criminals before he even started."

"Hmm. You really thought this out, haven't you? You want to play God with me, Ryuzaki?"

"My stance in this is not relevant to the discussion at hand."

And suddenly, it hit Light.

Ryuzaki's height.

Slouched or hugging his knees, or sitting on his feet, Ryuzaki was shorter than Light is stature, but if he were to stand up straight, Light imagined he would not be his little Ryuzaki.

He would be Light's height.

And then the idea of Ryuzaki playing God in Light's kingdom…

"You're not God, Ryuzaki. Whatever you are and whatever your little L file is, even if you're both the same thing. Even if you're executing criminals for me… I'm the one with the plan and the imitative. Not you."

Ryuzaki raised his hands in front of himself, trying to stop the emotional outburst with a physical gesture.

Just how far from the real world did this man live…?

"I also think Light-kun communicates with me on a very personal level, a level inappropriate for only knowing me for four days. I also may be a police spy, investigating Light-kun for the killings. Despite us being… friends."

"I like you," Light smiled charmingly again making it clear what he meant by that, and Ryuzaki cringed.

"A lot more than I am comfortable with, I am afraid," he looked around the room absently.

"So what are you using for your hackings?"

"A file," Ryuzaki evaded.

"Can a _person_ be a file?" Light hinted at his own deluded theories that would later make no sense even to himself, and wondering what he would do if Ryuzaki actually confessed.

"Persons are not files, Light-kun."

"Well then, can there be a person _and_ a file that are identical?"

"That would make a file a person, and there cannot be two identical persons, Light-kun. And if there are, they will not last; one will always deviate from another and they would no-longer be identical, and one of the copies has to simply perish before it starts being different, or else it will no-longer be the same person."

Light heard it – a distant plea from somewhere deep within Ryuzaki's words. A plea for understanding, a plea for someone -_for anyone_ - to convince him that he was wrong, to convince him otherwise, because being so indisputably right for some reason scared Ryuzaki on some disturbing level.

But within the context, the information given was so scarce that Light had no way of understanding just what the hell Ryuzaki had planned.

And when much later, Light would finally understand what L was trying to tell him that night, it would be too late.

But at that moment, Light could do nothing.

The person sitting lamely on the motel bed was still Ryuzaki and not "L. Something" as far as Light was concerned. And Light sat across a hideous red blanket pattern from him that visually separated them, but Ryuzaki was there, and he was within Light's reach, and Light reached out touch him instead of saying the things Ryuzaki crawled out of his lair in hopes of hearing.

And as soon as Light's fingertips brushed against the smooth curve of the pale cheek, the expression of sentimentality vanished from Ryuzaki's face, and the bored appearance of someone from an entirely different universe returned.

Ryuzaki threw Light's hand away and began getting up.

"Never you mind," he shrugged apathetically. "I think I am quite done here."

But as swiftly as it came out of nowhere, Light's hand darted across the red blanket pattern again and hooked two fingers into one of Ryuzaki's belt-loops and yanked hard enough to make the man lose his balance and send him falling forward. With a well-aimed swipe of a hand around a slim, bony waist, Ryuzaki was successfully caught with his sharp nose only an inch away from Light's.

_Gotcha. _

The round, black eyes that _were_ actually as black as the silky hair of the man who had them, rounded to almost impossible largeness.

"Oh _no_, Light-k…un." Light closed the distance between them, and Ryuzaki mouthed that last syllable down Light's throat. The soft but chapped lips tasted sweet, Light thought, much like he expected, take the scratching sensation. Sweet, cool, pleasant – but not moving at all in response, and through half-lidded eyes Light watched Ryuzaki's own black and surprised eyes dart left, then right, then left again as he kissed him.

But he wasn't pushing Light away, more like delicately nudging them apart so when Light stopped at his own convenience, Ryuzaki's apathy towards the kiss would be clear, and in theory, Light would back off.

_Strategies, strategies. _

Light allowed his fingers to dance under Ryuzaki's smooth chin and let his tongue flicker along the lips, and when Ryuzaki gave him no welcome, he pinched the delicate jaw-line between his forefinger and a thumb, pulled on it, and slid his tongue deep into the moist, cool and ridiculously sweet mouth.

It was like everything Light absolutely hated about kissing people was defined by one abnormal man. Defined, almost sharp teeth, smooth gums and cheeks that felt almost like plastic, coolness instead of warmth, and of course that overwhelming taste of sugar that was almost poisonous. All of it was just so obnoxious that Light only wanted more.

But it was then when Ryuzaki felt things went out of his control, and with strategies abandoned, he physically pried their bodies apart with surprising strength, and their mouths came apart with a wet smooch.

"Alright, Light-kun. Enough of that."

Light held onto the thin waist.

"Come on, just give it a shot."

"I am afraid Light-kun will be the only one giving it a shot," Ryuzaki droned, pointedly staring at the small but prominent bulge that already started to form in Light's pants; Light was excited. Ryuzaki was not.

At all.

"Ryuzaki, listen. I know what I'm doing here-"

"-all too well, Light-kun. I know, and I admit my initial doubts about _working_ with Light-kun _specifically_ are coming true all too soon-"

"-you'll like this, I promise-"

"-and I promise I do not feel even the slightest of attractions to men-"

And then Light leaped at Ryuzaki's mouth again, and Ryuzaki pushed him away again, even harder this time, but the taste that was so good and artificial at the same time, it drove Light absolutely insane.

It were the sleepless delusions, he figured, but sugar_tea16, there, so close to Light that Light could smell the sugar and the tea on his breath, so delicate, so odd and appealing and just god-damn _pretty_ in a very unrealistic way that Light wanted him as much as he wanted to know how he hacked government establishments and left no trace behind.

And there he was, sitting, sulking, puffing out his cheeks in discontent, living in a different world, and denying Light everything Light wanted so, so bad.

Light licked his lips in anticipation.

"Are you real at all, Ryuzaki?" he asked, guessing the man's insecurities.

And he hit a bulls-eye, because the black eyes narrowed into liquid slits, black as oil.

"Are you here, with me, or are you somewhere else, hmm? In an entirely different world, jumping around the net like you were born there?"

"What?"

"If I touch you… can I touch you?"

"You _may not_-"

"Or what? Will you disappear, will something change?" Light murmured in a delicious, low voice, and it sent a pleasant jolt down his growing erection when he saw that Ryuzaki was subconsciously leaning towards him. All it took – a weakness. An insecurity, a hook, something to lure them all in with – and Ryuzaki seemed just so difficult, so inaccessible, and yet there he was before, laying it all out like a map.

And it were these insecurities that they both shared; _was_ Ryuzaki real? Or was that cool plastic and almost fake smoothness really fake and plastic?

Was it just a shell, a cold artificial body with a program running it? It was deluded, this way of thinking, but-

"…and if I were to take off your clothes," Light continued when Ryuzaki crawled to him like a bee to a jar of leaking honey. His hands circled around the silky waist that he had found underneath the white shirt when he slid them there and Ryuzaki didn't even notice. Light tugged it up, slowly, the back of his hand sliding along the slight curve of the stomach, the sharp ribs and the delicate little nipples as he rolled the shirt over Ryuzaki's head, "if you were naked completely, all of you for me to see… would I find a breathing person made out of flesh and blood and sweet skin… or a plastic and silicon shell… hmm?"

Ryuzaki was his.

He melted into Light's arms like cotton candy on a hot day; by the time his skinny upper body was bare and the little nipples started perking and turning pink, Ryuzaki was sitting like a hypnotized cowgirl in Light's lap, and his sweet mouth was wide open for Light to taste.

The sugary tongue was slippery and slow, but it moved against Light's when he pushed it deep into the barely-warm mouth. His back with wonderful spine bumps that were as sharp as the rips proved to be a pleasant slide for his wondering arm, and it eventually passed the last of the vertebra and squeezed one of the round cheeks underneath the rough, blue denim.

Light licked the chapped lips and dove in with more energy when Ryuzaki blinked in confusion.

The hand on his ass must have woken him up; it was too early for that.

But Light was excited.

He played with pink nipples that stood out against the otherwise pale chest. Still soft, Light pinched one and rolled it between his fingers until the little nub turned red and very sore and Ryuzaki made a sound in the back of his throat.

They broke apart, and a thin string of saliva stretched between the tip of the sweet tongue and Light's lip, and the smell of his own arousal made Light grab the bony shoulders and push the dazed man into the pillows.

He had handcuffs – all officers should have handcuffs at all times, and Ryuzaki didn't notice the click of metal against the headboard and his own wrist.

With his clothed legs spread wide, and with Light's knees firmly between them, with one hand restrained and not even knowing about it, Ryuzaki couldn't look more vulnerable. Light didn't nudge his member with his knee because the thought it rude, and almost unwillingly, he released a sore nipple he was still squeezing and pinching and palmed Ryuzaki's crotch instead.

He felt the beginnings of an erection there.

He didn't ask for approval or permission of any kind when he started scraping his teeth along the neck that tasted sweet too, but Ryuzaki gave him one anyway.

"Light-kun will be –_very_ – careful."

_Very good. _

Straight men were always quite a challenge, but oh were his efforts rewarded when Light would slide into a tight passage that was so naive about the sensation, and unsure what to do with an intrusion that it would convulse and push against and almost _suck_ Light right in.

_Mmm. _

_Oh, Ryuzaki. _

He would be so hot, so tight, so dry, so surprised at how impossibly stretched out he _actually_ was around Light's member, that he would scream, yelp and bite his own tongue and pretend he was fine as Light would ram into him over and over, and while feeling like he was being spit in two from the inside, Ryuzaki would moan, moan for Light…

And still it irked him; it nudged and nudged and _bled_ in the back of his mind that this man, this _thing_ - it could be a _thing_. But the flesh – the flesh underneath hi s fingertips and lips, it felt so cool and smooth, and real, but was it? Ryuzaki's mouth tasted like molten sugar, like mint, and Light shoved his tongue as deep as he could to find an imperfection, a flaw – anything human in that damp and ridiculously sweet mouth.

The handcuff around the bony arm suddenly rattled, but Light nibbled the skin and squeezed his free hand between the firm flesh of Ryuzaki's navel and the rough fabric of his jeans. Half-aroused, by awoken fear Light supposed, Ryuzaki's member was half-hard and real in against the palm of his hand.

A leg under his own jerked in protest.

"If I fuck you really deep, Ryuzaki," Light mused in a low whisper against Ryuzaki's earlobe. He dipped his tongue into the curve and received a shudder, "would I feel a heartbeat inside of you?"

Would there be a heartbeat? Or would he find only stiff and tender coolness if he was to shove into Ryuzaki that very moment?

Swiftly, his hand circled around the base of the member that was just beginning to stiffen, he brushed a thumb across the soft sack and his fingers dove between the cheeks. Ryuzaki kicked the air in vain until Light found a tender, tight passage he immediately massaged with the fingertip that found it, and as Light did, the man under him jerked so hard that he almost managed to throw Light off.

"Get off," Ryuzaki finally hissed, his voice coming back to him. "I do not like this at all."

For some displaced reason of entitlement that appeared out of nowhere, Light did no such thing. Suddenly, he felt like he had the _power_ and the _right_ to do whatever he wanted with _his_ Ryuzaki. Two of his fingers, or maybe three – Light could even tell what he was doing at that point, pushed so hard against the tight hole that the raw and dry passage convulsed, tightened, but eventually gave in, and Ryuzaki screamed a pained sound, and suddenly Light's fingers felt pleasant and very dry warmth.

"Oh hell," Light whispered as he tried to stretch the impossible tightness out by scissoring against the dry walls, and pushing inside right up to his knuckles.

He curved his fingers and played with the stiff inner passage so roughly that Ryuzaki had to move his lower body around the unwelcome penetration, trying to ease the stretch. He was hissing and gagging around his own saliva. But Light wanted in; he wanted to impale that sore and trembling tunnel so badly that when he noticed a leg wrap around his arm, it was too late.

With a mighty twist that felt like it pulled his arm out of its socket, and a swift kick to his face that followed, his fingers and mouth that settled quite comfortably inside of various parts of Ryuzaki's body were ripped right out and Light came tumbling to the floor with a dull crush.

Ryuzaki wasted no moments. With his hand now free, he fished a pin, or a paperclip out of his jeans' pocket and picked the lock of the handcuff with such speed that when Light was just about to get up and wipe the blood off his chin, Ryuzaki already wiped his own mouth and _leaped _at Light instead or running away.

Light found himself on his stomach, under Ryuzaki with a knee lodged into the beginning of his spine. He realized Ryuzaki was in a ready position to snap his neck.

"Never," Ryuzaki leaned low and hissed into his ear. "Never ever _ever_."

"Heh," Light spat blood, "we'll see abo-gah!"

"No! You will never touch me again – ever! Do. You. Understand?"

Light said nothing and enjoyed the moldy scent of the motel carpet as it gave his face a thorough carpet burn and gave him wisdom.

"Answer me!"

What the _fucking hell_ was he thinking?

He was never violent – he coaxed and convinced and seduced. Coerced, perhaps – but never physically forced himself on anyone.

"You're right," he said quietly, sealing his thoughts with words. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Not _good _enough!"

"Then what's good enough? I can't take it back, so what do you want me to do!"

The man pulled his hair hard enough for Light to actually hear it being ripped out, and the pressure on the base of his skull became so tense that he expected a to hear a loud snap and see nothing but blackness.

Ryuzaki groaned, threw him against the floor and jumped away. When Light finally crawled his way into a sitting position, he found the man with angry black hair and equally black and angry eyes staring him from atop of the hotel bed. Hovering over Light like that, he looked like a predator.

He didn't retreat, instead he sought Light out half-way in the battlefield, met him, challenged him.

Light sat on the floor not far from where he had fallen, crossed his legs and looked Ryuzaki over.

Angry, no, _furious_, with black eyes narrowed into liquid oil slits and messy hair that was spiky at some areas and flat in others. The blue, worn jeans were barely holding onto the narrow hips. Naked, bony chest, flat stomach, sharp shoulders.

"You have no idea how much I want you," Light said.

"Well, Light-kun should say hello to his own _hand_. I already knew you were sexually coercive, but I agreed to this with at least a degree of _consideration_ in mind."

"Did I hurt you?"

Light knew he did, and he knew that if he was still in a delicious position of dominance, he wouldn't be asking this, instead he would have been ramming into _his_ Ryuzaki, and Ryuzaki would have just began to relax and quiet down under him.

Yes, this man was special. There would be no way to fully talk him into anything, Light realized, not like the others, and Light knew that he would have to force the man to understand to whose he was, and for whom he should scream.

Instead, Light did his best to look regretful; this failed sex was clearly Ryuzaki's first time with a man, Ryuzaki was very reluctant about it to begin with, and Light just managed to make it very _bad_. Overall, it was best to say nothing at all that would make Light's chances ever worse, but he just couldn't help himself.

'Did I hurt you' wasn't the exact thing he wanted to ask.

He glanced at his hand, and much to his relief or disappointment – he couldn't tell which – he saw a smeared streak of dark red along his fingers.

Blood.

"Are you _bleeding_?" Light heard himself purr.

Ryuzaki still said nothing, and with dignity Light found surprising, the man with wild black hair slid from the bed and dragged himself lazily towards the door. He walked past Light like he forgot all about Light and his _pathetic_ existence altogether.

It was the suggestion that Light was the one who was _pathetic _out of the two that did it.

"So you _are_ bleeding. I knew it; you're just a sad, miserable human being. Nothing more than that."

It felt like for a moment, Ryuzaki slowed his step as if wanted to say something, but before Light recognized it as a retaliation pause Ryuzaki changed his mind and didn't bother with the reply.

"Next time I see you … I'll screw you senseless, I promise," Light vowed, and it wasn't meant to be a threat.

"You will not," Ryuzaki threw at him and shut the door.

'_I will not' _what_?_

'_I will not' screw you, or 'I will not' see you again?_

Frustrated even more than he was before he saw Ryuzaki slouching over a Red Russians at a bar, Light picked up his cellphone and hit call-return.

"Teru?" and without bothering with as much as a 'hello', Light cut to the chase and recited his hotel address. "And you know what? Wear a white shirt and some jeans."

* * *

Ryuzaki expressively ignored Light's heart-felt virtual apologies throughout the week.

He would not reply to Light's e-mails, and to check that Ryuzaki wasn't dead or anything, Light hacked into sugar_tea16 hotmail account and found that each of his letters was opened upon arrival, and ignored. What made Ryuzaki's boycott even more demonstrative in its nature was Light's IM status: every morning Ryuzaki would dutifully sign onto the IM, request a voice call, and give his best silent treatment once Light accepted, thus parading around with clear discontent in his pants.

With this, Ryuzaki sought to prove a strictly business relationship between them, Light thought. Or maybe he was just being difficult, and although on some level Light understood that attempted rape was no joking matter, and the silent treatment was the peak of the iceberg of things Ryuzaki would do to him in retribution, disgust and hatred, the gravity of the deed just failed the click in Light's mind.

So when Ryuzaki's metallic and scrambled voice finally echoed in Light's room just as he was getting ready for work one morning after ten days of silence, Light nearly dropped his sock when his eyes went rolling.

"Well, good morning to you to!" Light said as if he was expecting this all week.

"Yotsuba server is about to experience another hacking attack as the rumor of Kira possessing the L spread. I suggest Light-_san," _Ryuzaki paused at the honorific to stress that he and Light were no-longer on friendly terms, "watches the behavior of the accessed file closely, if he wants to see any light to the situation. This is all."

"What, wait, wait. I thought the L file was already gone."

"Light-_san_ should search for the M file directory."

"…Ryuzaki," Light sighed skeptically, already considering the chances of this being another set-up, "in two weeks, I wouldn't hear anything about a stolen N file, would I?"

"No," Ryuzaki droned. "The N file has been sold to the United States of America."

"Oh," Light rolled his eyes. "Well then, how about an O file? Like, O, as in O for '**O**riginality'?"

But Ryuzaki said nothing else.

The executions of the criminals that were stalled for over ten days because of Ryuzaki's sulking and Light's unwillingness to piss off the man further spontaneously resumed after Ryuzaki broke his silent protest.

Over the first hour of Light's work day, reports of a hundred or so criminals the names and pictures of whom piled up in the folder on Light's netbook came rushing in; the media found the electrical fires and malfunctioning elevators "suspicious" after the twelfth death within the hour, and by the time the bodycount topped one hundred, every single TV station had a coverage on one death or another.

Ryuzaki really, _really_ needed his help, Light figured.

The internet chatter on the massacre in the name of justice was overwhelming to the point where search engines were causing unintentional DDoS on smaller sites.

It was so funny that Light had to choke down small bursts of laughter. What he found even more amusing was his squad. Virtually everyone on the Cybercrimes floor was tracking the chatter and going insane trying to figure out who the hell was messing with the electical boards.

Well, almost everyone on the Cybercrimes floor. Everyone _but_ Light was going insane with it; Light was quite content to have nothing to do with the mayhem. He calmly sipped his coffee and pretended to follow "very important" terrorist cell whispers on the Yotsuba hacking case.

And then, over the course of under five minutes, it spread like a disease.

Kira was doing it.

Kira was killing criminals.

Kira, Kira, Kira, Kira, KiraKira_KiraKira._

Light pursed his lips in disgust when a news anchor "received a report" that a hacker called Kira may be responsible for this.

Shit.

_Ryuzaki wouldn't. _

"Hey, guys!" Light called out from his small office. If it was legitimately Kira, the "report" would have come from Light's own division. "Is it true? Is it really Kira?"

"Yup," someone finally filled Light in, "it's Kira alright. Got his signatures all over this thing."

Oh _shit_.

Light's knuckles trebled and he froze in his plush chair. How dare that _little_ shit- If he set him up-

"Well, can you see him at least?" Light shouted, concerned and innocent.

Instead of a helpful reply from someone useful, a Touta Matsuda practically ran into Light's office.

"Light-kun, you won't believe it. We can't trace him. At all. It's definitely Kira, it's all of his hacks, but it's like Yotsuba all over again. Nothing in, nothing out, no traffic, not as much as an IP redirector," Matsuda read from a piece of paper he was clutching.

"Huh," said Light, not sure if he should be relieved. Matsuda wasn't even from Cybercrimes, Matsuda was an officer supervisor. Matsuda had no idea what he just said. "Who told you this?"

"People," he said, excitedly. "I can't help at all, so I'm just passing messages. It's really crazy out there. But it's fine in here… hey Light-kun, mind if I wait it out in here? So… how's your sister?"

To make the bad day even worse, someone triggered a Yotsuba security beacon, and Light finally closed the illegal spectator window on the Yotsuba traffic and opened up a legal one since if there was a threat it was now allowed.

Ryuzaki was right.

The hacker weaseled carefully around the Yotsuba security, and the flashy way he defeated the very first mutation string that tried to mess with his scripts made Light blink and do a double take.

What the hell did Matt want there?

It didn't look like Matt wanted much. He had no download redirectors; all he was doing was looking around, searching for something.

/m

Light watched as Matt proceeded. He viewed the directory, aimlessly tired to access random files and had access denied every time.

The way Matt was doing this was idiotic.

He got into the directory within forty minutes, but it came at a heavy price that disabled everything he could do. He sacrificed his downloading and watching capabilities, and even his own security. Though Matt remained untraceable to the best of his ability, if anyone was to see him online, they could easily fry him and his hard-drive – hell, Light was even tempted to do it himself, and it wasn't like Matt could do anything but stare at a huge M file in wonder.

But when Matt's behavior couldn't get any stupider, the _loser_ exceeded all Light's expectations.

Matt (very uselessly) fired (the most useless) virus (Light had ever seen) into the root of the M directory, thereby raising a dozen red flags.

Light saw the red flags go up, but they went up silently because something – and it wasn't Matt – blocked the alerts like they were never triggered, and there was nobody on the server but Matt and Light.

And then, gloriously, the M file got up and left, by itself, without triggering anything at all, and Matt froze, stunned where he was, tracing just where the hell a file that big could upload itself to, and so did Light.

But the thing fired millions and millions redirection packets _everywhere_, and Light almost got himself DDoS'ed trying to track at least a fraction of them, and the speed something so enormous was uploading itself was ridiculous.

And as the last bytes disappeared from the server, Matt stil stood in the middle of an empty directory, doing nothing at all.

And then like a delayed reaction of a frozen Explorer window, suddenly, Matt started running, he ran fast without bothering to hide or maneuver around the security, he ran, tripping the alarms on his way out like a blind tank.

_What the hell-_

And then Matt went offline.

_Okay_.

Light scratched his nose and filed a report.

---

Matt and Kira were not on good terms at all, and their war pacts against each other could only be interrupted by brief 'speaking terms' interludes that were always short-lived. While Light could never get any closer to Matt's location than the entire British Isle, finding Matt on the net was never difficult.

And it always dawned on Light just how ashamed he was to have that _disgrace_ for a mortal internet enemy whenever he found Matt in compromising situations, and this was no exception.

Matt was having a heated and _very serious_ argument with a twelve-year old over the proper uses of Call of Duty map glitches.

Because internet discussions were serious business.

Light logged in as _anonymous_ just when Matt was saying something about a _sweet_ _spot_ _behind a dumpster_ in some map where there always was a camper, _no expectations._

_**Rule 34,**_ wrote anonymous.

_**/b/ to anon**_**,** Matt wrote.

Anonymous: _**More like, /L/ or /M/.**_

smokin_pwnage: _**Rule 1 fail wtf.**_

Anonymous:_** No, seriously Mattykins. /M/ yeah? **_

Matt paused and presumably pulled up every firewall and IP redirector he had in his possession before writing:

smokin_pwnage: _**Lol anon, wanna cyber?**_

Anonymous: _**Sure. **_

A video call came and was accepted.

Light just blacked out his screen, and Matt had a bikini-model picture without the bikini as his, and their personalized voice scramblers weren't all that original either.

It was enough to have a decent conversation, in any case. Despite the temporary peace treaty Light himself initiated, he powered up an IP tracer and had it try to get a lock on Matt, and he was sure Matt did exactly the same.

"Kira-cha_aaan_," Matt dragged the syllable like a true fanboy who had no idea about proper Japanese pronunciations.

"Mattykins," Light greeted him curtly.

"Murdere_eeer_," Matt sang.

Should Light tell? Oh, but showing off was just so tempting, and this was Matt, and there didn't seem to be any harm in it…

"I am God, and they all deserved my wrath."

"Woah-woah man, _seriously_, it was you?" Matt said, _seriously_.

"Maybe."

"Oh. 'Kay. I knew you didn't have the balls, but whoever's doing it, they're good. I looked the shit up. Looks definitely like you, but it can't be you, you're not that good, sister."

Light bit his lip, but instead he said, "something else, Matt. Something more important."

"What?"

"Why the Yotsuba, of course."

Matt paused.

"What about Yotsuba?" he said suspiciously.

"Oh, you know. Their interior design, the AIs running around-"

Light heard a thud that was masked by the scrambler.

"AIs! I knew it I knew it, fuck me man I _knew_ it!!" Matt cheered.

"What _do_ you know?"

"Prolly as much as you do, but y'know, since we both think this shit is real…"

"Huh," Light mulled the thought over. So it wasn't just Light who was deluded at the delicious possibility of Artificial Intelligence. "It might as well be. I mean, the technology is definitely there…"

What Light had in mind were hacking AIs, _programs_, the ones that evolved around their purposes. It felt like a much more realistic, safer approach.

Matt however, liked to go overboard.

"And I was waiting for it all my life! Can you imagine, like DP Alpha-11 or EMH or, or, or even Ruk-"

"Matt, Matt," Light stopped him, "Star Trek. Didn't watch, don't care."

"You fag."

Light ignored Matt's Xbox uniform greeting.

Matt's M file was different.

When the L file disappeared, there was nobody on the server with it.

With M, Matt was on, and Matt left his traces all over it. And just when M sent itself off to a dark corner of the internet where Light couldn't find it, Matt went offline.

"So what do you think these LMN do, AIs or not?"

"Nothin'. They're people," Matt insisted stubbornly.

"How are _files_ people?"

"Well, haven't you thought what all these letters stood for?"

"No, what?"

"Hot chick names! Like, L could be for Lexis, and M could be for Mercedes!--"

_These are stripper names,_ Light thought.

"--and N could be for Nikki!"

"And O could be for _Olga_," Light finished for him passively.

"You're sucha fuckin' fag."

"Keep the Xbox lingo with your mom," Light told him. "What can you tell me about the M?"

"Why should I tell you _jack_ about the M? Last time I told you shit, you carved a hole in my beautiful Vista-"

"You asked for it. You cost me four hours of my life when you took out my server-"

"That was 'cause you fucked with my WoW-"

"Alright, alright. My bad, Matt," Light decided to be the bigger man, because Matt most certainly wasn't. "Tell me about the M file and I'll share what I got on L."

After a little convincing, Matt bit.

"I don't know shit about the M file. I figured L was an AI, and you messed with it, obviously, and the L is messing with Kira now and killing people… in revenge yeah. And so the M would be an AI, too. Cool shit, you know? Fuck me if I'll ever even get enough space to download a quarter of it, so I just went and poked the M with a stick. So yeah."

"And then?"

"And then what?"

"What happened?"

"I don't know, some fuckin' retard chased me the fuck out of there, so I ran. I'm not getting caught for this shit, I didn't do nothin'."

"Matt. There was nobody after you."

"Yeah there was. How the fuck would you know, anyway."

"I was spectating, Matt. There was nobody in that server but you."

"Bullshit, the fuckin' bastard caught up with me and-"

_Caught up with Matt?_

"You talked to him?"

"Yea-"

"Metallic voice scrambler?

"Yeah, how di-"

"Droned like a politician?"

"Oh hell no," Matt spat, "shrieked like a Barbie on steroids, cursed me out in like ten languages I think, made fun of my beautiful Vista. Hurt my feelings, totally."

"Drank tea?"

"Ate fuckin' chocolate."

Light rubbed the bridge of his nose and told Matt that both of them had two very serious problems on their hands.

And then his little netbook sang a cheerful ping as Ryuzaki requested a voice call.

Before accepting, Light wrote:

**xXTennisXx:** _No names. Talking to Matt. _

**Sugar_tea16: **_Disconnect. Now. _

Light didn't, and instead accepted Ryuzaki's invitation.

"What's up," he said.

"Holy shit, is that Japanese?" Matt said.

"Matt-kun, Kira-_san_," Ryuzaki greeted curtly before he switched to English. "Disconnect, both of you. Hide. Quickly now."

Light said "what," but Matt was already gone, and Ryuzaki manually enslaved both of his computers and Light watched him disable and block all internet Light had, successfully disconnecting himself, too.

He and Matt had a very big problem indeed, but Light never got to talk to Matt about it ever again because very suddenly after the incident, Matt disappeared, and the M file did too, and Light couldn't find either of them he met Matt in person, much later.

For the time being though, there was something else - there was a _thing_.

Manually just like Ryuzaki, _it_ sliced through Light's security like his firewall was a brick of butter. Before Light disabled the internet from the CP and with the external switch, it was already downloaded, and as an offline program it was overwriting Light's OS, with text, manually, very quickly.

Light tried to trace it, but he just couldn't get a fix on where the hell it came from, or when. All he knew was that _it_ was ready to pack every piece of data, back-up data, temporary data and surveillance data Light had and send it off to… the USA National Intelligence Database.

_Oh no. No, no no no no, no you don't!_

In truth, if Light's OS wasn't as sophisticated as he made it to be, he would have never noticed all of his files being copied.

So what the hell was the _thing_ – a very sophisticated virus that ran on mutation strings, Light realized –what was it trying to do _offline_?

It was trying to re-enable the internet.

The wireless transmitter was off, but it – the offline _thing_ that Light could do nothing about, it was trying to override the off switch and make the laptop and the netbook broadcast.

_Shut them down?_

_No, no. _

Light abandoned fighting with it, and instead grabbed a mechanical pencil. It was metal, it would do.

If he was found, if he was forced to go online, the Kira murders, the Kira himself, the illegal hackings, the _everything_, the thing would get it _all_.

How the hell did it find him!

With no choice left, Light stabbed his wireless Wi-Fi receivers with the metal tip of the pencil.

* * *

**edit: O is a joke. There is no O. No O. I would never..!**

A/N: -_bulldozing… plot… forward_- Gah! MOVE!

Light: I'd rather you didn't…

L: I'd rather Miss King did. Miss King, please get Light-kun in trouble.

A/N: Alright. In the next chapter, Light gets in trouble.

Light: Ack!

L: Thank you. Now please make me a God too so I can compete with Light-kun's corpulent ego.

A/N: 'Kay. In the next chapter, L is a God.

Light: That's not very fair...

L: Light-kun, when I'm done not being fair to you-

Light: I said I was _sorry_..!

**A/N: (avoids confirming and denying 5a89s7af reviews asking if L is a "robot"… "robot"? That sounds so crude… and yet…)**

**But anyway, personally, I call that one of my most successful sex scenes ever. What do you guys think? Emotional mindfuck, or what? And what did you think of my O jokes...? Haha... ha? /fails  
**

THANK YOU REVIEWER SHOUT-OUTS OF WHICH THERE ARE A RIDICULOUS MANY AND I LOVE YOU: **merichuel, Viciada desde 2005, WinterLuvNaruto, Wolfess-Sanu, Jetta, secretskept, Soullessdoll, Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, sayuri2023, MistressColdblood, Ms Random Freak, ArtistOfLight, Anemone Kurosaki, Keyinei, DarkAngelJudas, blueandorangesky10, DNLover02, Nardaviel, Mina-Hikari, Thursday, PinkBlueDiamond, PaperMasque, Dex Jerkon, demonlifehealer, BloodyShinigami, ellan54, yellowrose87, Dottayy, SugarCoatedGenius, Seelenspiel, fan-fan31, IsobelAnis,** and **aquastreak243**!!!

I don't even know… what to say… in thanks… other than posting chapters too quickly… and you guys are…

THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU.

**OH WHAT IS THIS.**

**The Magic Button is evolving.**

**The Magic Button evolved to…**

**MAGIC TEXT BUTTON!**

**You know you **_**reeeeaaally**_** want to test it out. :D**

l

l

l

V


	5. Webcam Spy

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, what was I doing for F knows how long? Well. If it was ever aired on TV – I bet you I've watched it. And I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity." _

**CH05: Webcam Spy**

"Ugh," Light groaned and hit the pillows, just about ready to collapse from a weekend-long reinstalling, wiping and debugging the re-installs of everything that ever had a mechanical pulse.

While the recovery software worked away on the two amputated laptop harddrives, Light carved the Wi-Fi hardware switches with a screwdriver. He had never heard of _a thing_ capable of enabling the on switch of the Wi-Fi, but after carefully dissecting the adapters, he realized all that stood between the external _on_ and _off_ switch of the wireless was just a command prompt, not an actual physical _off_ switch.

So he built one out of a metal conductor plate (a ball of tinfoil) and a rubber pad (a piece of eraser). The mutilated wireless adapter never looked worse, but as Light put it back in and covered a gaping hole of chipped plastic NetBook exterior with a black piece of electrical tape, he felt a ping of pride.

Try to get through that, _thing._

And then, there was Ryuzaki.

A weekend of torturous offlining later, Ryuzaki signed into the IM as if he was waiting for him for two days – without any sleep or anything. Not that the time awake could darken the impossibly dark circles under Ryuzaki's eyes any further, but still, it was kind of creepy.

And the first thing Light told him was ask what _the thing_ was.

Ryuzaki hesitated, wanting to talk about something else apparently, but eventually he succumbed to Light's demand, and answered.

"It was one of the three Yotsuba files, Light-kun. The N, to be precise. However, Light-kun should not worry about the N for the time being. It is currently occupied with… something else."

"Oh really? Well, while your little "N" was at it, it nearly stole files criminals to Kira, Kira to me, and me to _you_, but I suppose that's just _fine too-_-"

"As terrible as that all was, I want Light-kun to print out something instead of complaining. On sticker paper. I know Light-kun has sticker paper, I looked up Light-kun's credit card billing, and Light-kun has bought sticker paper-"

"Okay, yes. Sticker paper. _Fine_. I got it the first time. What?"

Ryuzaki e-mailed him a file, and when Light opened it, his eyebrow twitched.

It was an image file, written by hand. It read "Death Note," and it was written like… like…

"Ryuzaki. Did you write this with your _foot_?"

He printed it, and upon further instructions, pasted the sticker on the lid of the little NetBook.

Now, his NetBook read "Death Note."

Great.

"That's great," Light told Ryuzaki.

"Is it not just lovely?"

"What the hell."

"I shall once again ask Light-kun not to kill anymore criminals."

Light was in the middle of a speech about criminals and pure world when his little black NetBook started reformatting.

"This shall be Light-kun's way of killing criminals, then." There was a Persons' Database Search, there was a list screen, there was a timeframe, and there was a 'submit' button. "It is automatic. Light-kun shall not ask how this is done until it is absolutely necessary for him to ask. I understand an automatic killing prompt is more impossible than my manual work that is already short of Godly, but either Light-kun takes this and asks nothing, or he gets nothing. I frankly do not care whom Light-kun chooses to kill anymore-"

Light lost Ryuzaki somewhere on 'shall not.' Quietly staring at the NetBook, it downed on him. His lips, pressed together hard, and fists, clenched so hard his fingernails dug into his palm, were not getting enough blood. But he said nothing, feeling the power surging through his fingertips. Power. Power. Sweet, wonderful control of lives. In the palm of his hand. Without Ryuzaki's limitations as to who may die.

It was…

Terrifying.

"-It is terrifying, is it not?" Ryuzaki guessed when Light said nothing for over a minute. "To have something like this under your control. You may take this. This system is absolutely consequence and limitation-free. All I can do is ask Light-kun not to use it."

"Why would you give something like this to me, if you don't want me to use it?"

"Understanding the price of a human life is something Light-kun needs to learn himself. A life... The criminals that have to die only have _one_ life. Light-kun only has _one_ life, even as a God."

"Are you afraid to die, Ryuzaki? Is this what this is all about? You know, whatever your reasons for giving me this are, I will be using it to punish criminals. Don't be delusional and pretend that I won't… So what, are you afraid of death?"

Ryuzaki didn't miss a beat, and probably regretted not taking a pause he clearly needed.

"I am no-longer afraid of death, Light-kun. No… I confess, I lied just now. No, in fact I… I am not sure. Perhaps right now the idea scaring me more than death is the idea of uncertainty of whether I _should_ be scared or not, according to myself."

It sounded like gibberish.

"Yes, but I digress, Light-kun," Ryuzaki continued his high metallic drone. "To have a power of a…" he paused, as if trying to remember what ridiculous name he gave the NetBook and subsequently made Light print and decorate with, "…the power of a _Death Note_, Light-kun surely has to be a god. However, I gave Light-kun this power. This makes me a god also, does it not?"

It sparked.

A thrill.

Light took Ryuzaki's pause, and at least ten more pauses after that, only to make his own voice and thoughts presentable. A rush of anger and adrenaline, both responses to being challenged so carelessly, they sipped into his head and pinched their way down the skin over his spine. The feelings – they were feelings at first, maddening, infuriating, feelings that made him livid – and as they passed through his stomach, these feelings were no longer feelings, but physical sensations, and they traveled into his lower belly and lower in a wave of heat. Anger and _pleasure_, and unexplained joy that made him want to laugh, laugh and laugh until his throat was sore.

Ryuzaki?

A god?

Just like Light?

Ryuzaki's argument was sound; in fact, it was very logical.

And yet…

"Is that a challenge, Ryuzaki?" His lips moved tenderly around the syllables as the words sipped out of his mouth in the sweetest and calmest of honey tones.

"I do not think involving myself in a war with Light-kun is the most sensible of ideas whilst being in my current predicament, so I shall retract my statement. Light-kun is the only God. I hail him."

This white flag was joke; ultimately Ryuzaki as good as told him that the threat of Light was so insignificant that simply surrendering would waste no energy.

And Light _loved_ the insult.

It gave him _pleasure_.

"Ryuzaki," Light declared after some more minutes passed as he waited for the fog of delicious power that clouded his vision to melt away, and as soon as he realized it wouldn't, he spoke anyway, quietly, and evenly. "Ryuzaki. I will prove to you I am a god. After I find you, fuck you, and get you to tell me everything I want to know about you, I will kill you, with your own toy."

On the other end, Ryuzaki was silent, as if expecting Light to go on.

"And I am telling you this only because I know you'd love it if I tired. And I also know that once you crawl out from your hermit cave again, you will try to take your toy from me, by killing me."

"And Light-kun would love to figure out the point of all this, will he not?"

Light grinned.

"You're calling me –kun again, Ryuzaki."

On the other end of the NetBook, through miles and miles of static, Light could almost see Ryuzaki scowl.

"I suppose I am," Ryuzaki droned, sourly. "But now I shall appoint Light-kun to the fulfillment of his side of the bargain; it is his turn to help me."

Light remembered he had a deal with Ryuzaki, something about doing things for him, so he simply took the Death Note and walked out of the room.

…

Three hours later, Light stormed back into his room, his favorite cream shirt, his new shoes and pants he really liked all dripping with murky water of suspicious composition.

"You dropped a window-washing platform on me! From 13 floors down!" Light fumed as he threw the ruined clothes to the floor only to get his floor wet as well.

"Ah," said Ryuzaki as if the three-hour pause in their conversation never happened. "It was merely a caution to inform Light-kun he should not attempt to back out of his side of the bargain. The platform was timed perfectly to drop once Light _passes_ under it."

And his hair – his _hair_! He will have to spend hours with product just to get bird-poop clumps out of his beautiful hair that cost _so much_ to maintain in the first place!

Ryuzaki.

Was.

Definitely.

Dead.

"_You_-" but Light couldn't even word his rage.

"I confess, Light-kun will find my pranks rather petty. However, I assume Light-kun has also discovered the password protection on the Death Note to be quite impossible to crack, and so the errand I want Light-kun to do is the following-"

Light grit his teeth, grabbed a towel and some clean clothes and stormed out of the room and into a shower, ignoring Ryuzaki's existence. And when his nice light bulb exploded, it startled him and made him slip on a bar of soap and come crashing into the side of the tub.

And when his water would not run hot, Light stomped back to his room.

"OKAY. _Fine_. What. Can you possibly. Want. So bad."

"There is currently an ongoing lawsuit for highly classified intellectual property between Japan and USA. Namely, it is a lawsuit between Yotsuba and SPK. I request Light-kun involves the Japanese cybercrimes division into this lawsuit. Specifically, I request Light-kun surrenders my case and becomes personally involved into the case between Yotsuba and SPK."

Ryuzaki's voice, beaming from his laptop speakers in anything but almost _cheerful_ metallic monotone, made Light want to take his own laptop and chuck it out of his window.

"This was _urgent_?"

"Indeed. It is very unfortunate it took me a day's worth of irritating Light-kun to get him to address this very urgent matter."

Light glared holes in the control set for the speakers.

"I will mute you."

"Is Light-kun unsatisfied with my conclusion that this matter is urgent-"

"Muting you."

"Surely Light-kun can understand the degree of importance this matter sho-"

"Still muting you."

"Have I told Light-kun how astonishingly flawless his hair is?"

Light paused.

"Do go on."

When Ryuzaki didn't go on, Light resigned and asked him just what was so criminal about the intellectual property lawsuit between Yotsuba and SPK.

"There is absolutely nothing criminal about the intellectual property lawsuit between Yotsuba and SPK."

"Okay, so what did they do?"

"They have done absolutely nothing."

"Is it even related to cybercrimes?"

"The matter is completely unrelated to cybercrimes."

"Well, what is this intellectual property?"

"That is classified."

"So how am I supposed launch a criminal cybercrimes investigation about something that isn't criminal or cybercrimes, way out of Japan's jurisdiction, and too classified for me to even know what it is?"

"I am sure Light-kun can figure a way."

"I'm not doing this."

"If Light-kun wants unsupervised use of Death Note, he is definitely doing this."

"How am I supposed to-"

But Ryuzaki finally had enough, and annoyed, he barked, "As I am sure weaponless God is already bored with earthly things and would much rather concern himself with his hair, however Light-kun, do grant me an audience. The funds frozen in the transaction that lead to the dispute between Yotsuba and SPK, which are not at all the reason for the dispute, total to-"

"I don't care, the – I'm terribly sorry, Ryuzaki. How _much_ did you say?"

Ryuzaki repeated the number.

"And you said that's in millions?"

"Billions."

There was silence.

"Did… did the SPK buy Google?"

"Not at all. Neither SPK nor Yotsuba _have_ that kind of funding, nor do they want it back, but it does not change the fact that the sum is paid. All either party wants is the intellectual property which is being disputed."

"So SPK, which I'm guessing got the money from the USA government-"

"Light-kun may investigate for himself. Through NPA's cybercrimes. Preferably soon. Thank you. That will be all. "

As soon as Ryuzaki signed off the messenger, Light's new Death Note beeped and unlocked itself.

So Light punished some criminals.

Then, he punished some more criminals.

Then he slammed the NetBook lid down, groaned, and gave into his curiosity of just how the hell a Cybercrimes' top genius officer with flawless hair such as himself failed to notice a transaction of that size being wired to or from Japanese banks.

And after spending his weekend scripting codes and hacking bank security systems some of which he wrote himself, he found thousands upon _thousands_ of $50,000 dollar transactions, all around the globe, all of which ended up in one homeland e-bank, which was classified , censored, and frozen.

All Light managed to find out about the single-account bank were the initials of the account holder.

L L.

Just the same as the only other L L. Light had ever come across: the highly anonymous and overly censored developer of some sketchy Yotsuba software.

The kind of L L. whose ego was just large enough to name an alleged AI after himself.

The kind who drank Red Russians and bled around Light's fingers.

Light though about it for whole five seconds and decided that _IF_ the end-resolution of the whole mystery business was something as disappointing as Ryuzaki being a normal human being by the name of L L. who wanted his billions of dollars back, then Light would punch him in the face and pass on the case to _Matsuda_ because Matsuda was the best Ryuzaki _deserved_.

He expected AIs, damn it, and there better be AIs, or at least something better than just boring old money.

Too bored to do anything and bitterly disappointed, Light removed the post-it that blocked his Webcam and used the camera feed to adjust his hair.

Seeing his perfect face through his Webcam made Light feel better, so he parked the Death Note right in front of the laptop and punished some criminals.

* * *

With only a few minor delays and hiccups in the infinitely complex flowchart laid out in L's mind, the preparations were proceeding just as planned, if not too fast for his own liking. It wouldn't take long for the unfolding events to focus on one specific path, a path neither Light Yagami nor SPK nor the NPA nor the N or M or L or any other anagram would be able divert from.

Plucking two puzzle pieces with one hand, L clipped them together in mid-air and clicked them into their proper place on the floor.

There was only one way puzzle pieces could fit together.

But an abandoned puzzle, so complex the player got bored with it, was not a good puzzle.

It needed to be at least half-complete.

Half-complete, a puzzle would be too entertaining to abandon, even though the picture would be clear, even though rather than for the fun of it, completing a half-finished puzzle would be done only the sake of self-fulfillment.

And that's what he had to do for Light Yagami.

L picked up his cup of nice steaming tea that balanced haphazardly on the pile of puzzle pieces, and hopped into a swirly chair. With almost acrobatic accuracy, L managed to spill none of it.

Light Yagami needed to be guided at least half-way until L would be confident enough that there was only one possible outcome.

Light Yagami.

L swirled around, and round and round the empty room around him span, but the disturbing thought of what Light Yagami tried to do to him would not eject from his mind.

Light Yagami was a challenge in itself, and while L was more than familiar with Light's manipulative, maniacal and egocentric personality because it was exactly this personality that got Light selected from the list of candidates in the first place, Light was, to a certain degree, fun.

Right next to L's desktop mouse, surrounded by piles of printouts and USB sticks and crumbs from cake and wrappers from chocolate, right next to a green toy gun with an orange tip lay a real gun, made out of metal and loaded with bullets.

L eyed it, remembering Light's speech about what dying to ascend to his throne as a 'god' felt like.

There could be only one of everything, L thought whimsically and dismissed a certain thought he had with an excuse of poor timing.

Maybe eventually, he would warm up to Light Yagami enough to keep him around instead of killing him. L wondered if keeping Light Yagami would be a choice he would make in the future.

Quickly before he lost them, L typed up his thoughts and uploaded them.

The future – his future – was not that far ahead.

So far, Light Yagami as good as swallowed the forbidden apple whole, and was prompting everyone in paradise to do the same. Just like a god himself – until he would fall.

Ah – and there it was. The picture in L's puzzle was finally taking shape.

L's monitor displayed that across the ocean all the way in America, the SPK had just red-flagged Light Yagami as Kira.

* * *

At some point, Light enjoyed the privilege of being the sole officer on the sugar_tea16 casefile, and he quite liked it.

Then, because sugar_tea16 was spotted on Yotsuba (and also in other places, like outer space), Light was forced to merge his investigation with the Yotsuba-L-and-M-file-hacking team, which kind of left him in charge sometimes.

Then suddenly, in a very Kira-like manner, Arayoshi Hatori, Masahiko Kida and Suguru Shimura were all killed in accidents involving window-washing platforms. Kira _so_ had nothing to do with this, but he suspected Ryuzaki had. Ryuzaki swore on tea that he did not do it, either. Problem was, the three dead men just so happened to be three of Yotsuba's Seven. Once Yostuba hackings became a high-profile murder investigation, the NPA chief Soichiro Yagami pretty much became Light's boss.

All of this happened over the course of a single Monday, and it made Light annoyed. And so Tuesday morning, Light became downright furious.

A busty blonde American woman with the general presence of someone who'd just finished making love to an icecube, was shaking a piece of American-looking paper into Light's father's face, and notifying the team of yet another change in authority.

"-Our extended jurisdiction documents and transfer were just e-mailed to you. If you would please print them from an e-mail attachment-"

"Yeah, I see it," said Matsuda helpfully, and after a minute of fiddling with things, he finally gave up. "Uh, how do I print?"

Light ignored him, stepping up as the silently elected representative of Cybercrimes to defend his division's honor.

"You guys are SPK, you're not even police-"

"We changed our standing, we are now affiliated with FBI. I myself am FBI. Until two days ago, SPK stood for System Telecommunications Kingdom."

"And what did you do?"

"We did telecommunications. Cameras and live feeds."

"And now what do you do?"

"Now, SPK stands for Special Provision for Kira. We do Kira."

"Can't you do Kira in America?"

"Kira is not in America. In fact, we have reasons to believe Kira is an exceptionally talented and highly skilled genius member of the Japanese NPA's Cybercrimes division."

Everyone and their mother, without a single bastardly exception, turned to downright stare at Light.

Inside his mind, Light gulped and cursed everything that existed. On the outside, he just cleared his throat.

"Clearly," Light said gravely and gestured to his left, "you must be talking about Matsuda."

At that precise moment, Matsuda's printer viciously ate ten sheets of paper at once, choked on them, and died.

* * *

This was precisely why L still bothered to interfere: it was too early to let the events unfold by themselves, and Halle Linder waltzing into NPA and accusing Light Yagami of being Kira was so much ahead of schedule that Light was about to kicked off the investigation.

L predicted Linder would keep it to herself, investigate Yotsuba and watch Light's actions; instead, she chose to come at him from the offensive.

In his head, the flow-chart of events became distorted with this one single change, and L saw where it would end. Aizawa would phone Light's father and report the accusation made by SPK. SPK would share all of their weak evidence, all but the most important piece, and it would be sufficient to force Soichiro Yagami to bar Light from the investigation, which would further implicate Light as Kira because Light will spend his free time plotting against SPK and killing criminals.

And even though Light could probably manage, simply 'managing' was useless to L.

Aizawa had just made the call, and Soichiro Yagami picked it up from the parking lot of the investigation building; he was in the process of escorting Kyosuke Higuchi, one of Yotsuba Seven.

In a private conference room, Halle Linder was already explaining how Light had been hacking into Yotsuba all along, and on the speaker-phone, Soichiro Yagami could hear it.

He had until Soichiro, Light, Halle and Higuchi were all assembled in one room.

He had minutes.

L sharpened his front teeth on a sugarcube, and when the sugarcube became nothing but sugary spit, L nibbled his fingers, span in his chair, and stomped on the quarter-complete puzzle on the floor.

This was the _wrong_ turn of events.

But, he noticed, only five pieces jumped out of their slots and became lost in piles around the puzzle.

This was the thing with puzzles. Once clicked in their appropriate spots, they wouldn't derail easily.

Rushing, L dropped the whole sugar bowl to the floor.

His minutes were ticking away.

Microphone. He needed a microphone. From the depth of clutter on his desk, L fished out a microphone while using his left hand to send Light's phone a text message and a script.

Now, a voice scrambler...

* * *

On shaky legs and painfully aware that he was about to be kicked off the investigation and would probably have to submit his room in his parents' house to a search, Light received Ryuzaki's text just as the elevator doors opened and revealed the sour faces of the older Yagami and VP Higuchi.

_Acquire a Bluetooth earpiece, link it to your phone and encrypt it. Wear it to the conference room. R. _

Having read that and noticing Light's father surveying the floor with searching eyes, Light did all he could to stall for time and ducked under a table.

Light texted back an angry _F U I know u did this go die Im not helping u. _

_Rather, I am helping Light-kun keep his job. Acquire a Bluetooth earpiece, link it to your phone and encrypt it. Wear it to the conference room. R. _

Whatever Ryuzaki wanted, it couldn't possibly be more damaging than this.

Light ducked and darted from desk to desk until he reached his office, fished out a lame Bluetooth earpiece Sayu had given him for Christmas and plugged it into his work Desktop.

Encrypt faster encrypt encrypt encryptencrypt_encrypt!_

This was taking forever, and having escorted Higuchi into the meeting room, from under desk he was hiding under, Light could see the chief's feet stomping towards Light's corner office.

Light typed up _done_ as a reply to Ryuzaki, and waited so he would send it the moment the encryption finished.

50 percent.

The feet passed the pot that housed a plastic palm.

60 percent.

The feet were one cubicle away.

70 percent.

Stepped over the doorframe.

80 percent.

Inside his office, stopped, taking a look around.

90 percent.

How the hell was Light going to find a dignifying reason for hiding under his desk?

"Light?"

Light sprang from under his desk like a happy mushroom full of joy and positivity.

"Hi dad!" he said cheerfully.

"Why were you hiding under the desk?" Soichiro asked grimly.

"Dropped my phone, um, sorry."

Soichiro Yagami groaned.

"Your phone is in your hand," the police chief shook his head. "Conference room. Now. You know what this is about."

"Yeah," said Light.

He put his phone in his pocket and kept his hand there as he pressed the 'send' button.

Less than a second later, his phone rang, but not in his pocket, but in his ear.

Casually, Light scratched beside his ear.

"You wear one of those things now?" His father noted, and a gram of grimness melted from his voice. "I thought you said they were so lame you would rather not take calls while driving than wear one."

"Yes. Oh I mean, I… changed my mind."

In his ear, a high-pitched metallic voice was rattling off instructions.

"_Light will then suspiciously hint at resignation before his father mentions is. Once his father agrees, Light-kun will firmly change his mind."_

"Why would I do that!" Light hissed, and the police chief gave him a suspicious stare. "I mean... say that, dad, why would I say that. These things sure are stylish..!"

"…Right," Soichiro motioned him through the heavy wooden frame of the private conference room.

Triumphantly, Linder was just wrapping up the report of highly circumstantial and weak evidence that in itself implicated Light as Kira no stronger than it implicated the entire population of Japanese hackers.

Light also knew that his father, grim and firm, would boot any officer from an investigation no matter the reason, so that when the court date came, there would be no legal loopholes defense could build a case around.

The four other NPA officers in the room, Matsuda, Ide, Aizawa and Mogi, knew this just as well, and were sending Light eyefuls of pity.

Light also read Linder's expression. Her eyes laughed every time she mentioned video evidence, and her mouth became thin as if she was holding back words about something so enormous that she had trouble keeping it quiet. Light knew at once that the real piece of evidence Light was singled out for could not ever see the light of day, and because of it, he would not be able to ever convince Linder of his innocence. In turn, Linder could not say what her real evidence was, either.

"This evidence is so weak, I... I don't think I want to be a part of any investigation team that grasps at straws like that," Light said in his most vulnerable voice. Ryuzaki approved.

"Light, I don't mean to disrespect you as an officer, but I think it would be in the best interest of NPA if you resigned the case, at least temporarily," said Soichiro.

"_Look relieved. Agree. Think about it. Then disagree."_

Light looked relieved.

He agreed.

Then he thought about it.

Then he said, "no... never mind, I don't agree."

"_Now, Light-san. Repeat after me exactly."_

If Light just embarrassed himself in front of a room-full of important people to play telephone, Ryuzaki was about to drink his final tea.

"Yes, Linder-san, you are right. I did hack Yotsuba and I saw what was in there. I have been hacking it for months. I was there weeks," Light turned to Higuchi, "before you loaded the final profile onto M."

"Oh, Light-san," Linder smiled icily and Higuchi nearly jumped up, "is this a confession?"

Soichiro Yagami was standing up, too.

"It's not a confession, and I am not done, please sit down, Higuchi-san, Yagami-san. I've been watching Yotsuba for a while, and I have also witnessed the transaction between Linder-san's organization and Higuchi-san's organization. And I have also witnessed L Lawliet's release of the L and the M."

Both Higuchi and Linder looked at Light as if he grew a second head.

"I am also aware of the fragile legal standing the SPK has with the N, as I am aware that Yotsuba has lost both L and M."

"So what," bit Linder.

"So, Linder-san, what Kira-san and myself are using to punish criminals is in fact the L. I also have M. Dad, I swear I'm not—Sorry. No, no no, don't. I.. Yagami-san, please sit down."

"Light, whose voice are you speaking with?"

By this point, Light had on his best pathetic and scared face, "Oh. H-he says I can put him on speaker now."

With a shaking hand, Light fished his phone from his pocket, disabled the Bluetooth, and turned on the speaker. To hear it, the nine representatives of SPK, Yotsuba, and NPA formed a tight circle of conspiracy.

From Light's blackberry, Ryuzaki's metallic voice continued to drone smoothly.

"I have brought a representative of SPK and a representative of Yotsuba into one room to issue a warning: beyond this room, nobody knows that the L, M and N files are artificial intelligence. Whoops. My bad. Beyond this room, nobody knows what exactly the L, M, and N files do. For example, what N does is—See, I am about to have another slip of the tongue. As you can tell by Light Yagami's example, I am able to implicate anyone as Kira, and I will. Please leave myself, Kira, and the L file to our own devices, or else I will let the true nature and purpose of L, M and N slip to sources beyond this room. And also, I will cause this building to explode. This is all. Thank you Light-kun, Yagami-san, Linder-san, Higuchi-san-"

Light could hear the pulse of relief beating against his eardrums, and Soichiro slumped back into his seat, Linder continued to burn holes in Light's head, and Higuchi's sweat dripped to the table.

"-Mogi-san, Aizawa-san, Ide-san, Matsuda-san. This will be all."

A busy tone signaled that the conversation was disconnected.

"Who the _hell_ was that?" Higuchi spat as he pulled at his hair.

Light looked around the room with a guilty expression so pure and innocent that only Linder did not buy it.

"Ryuzaki. Uh, Sugar Tea Sixteen. It would seem that Ryuzaki is Kira's…" Light considered vengefully, "girlfriend."

* * *

**It likes being pressed.  
**

l

l

l

V


	6. Trojan Horse

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, I live right next to forest patch and it creeps me out every night, and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity." _

**CH06: Trojan Horse**

L rested his head against the hollow plaster of a wall and toyed with the plush fibers of the carpet with his bare toes. From time to time, he found himself to be skilful enough to trap a thread between the joints of his big toe, but he could never quite pluck it out. But, he tried again and again, because his predicament was such that there was simply no other source of entertainment anywhere within his sitting proximity.

His puzzle lay finished and abandoned and quite possibly covered with a very fine layer of cooling fan dust. It waited for Light Yagami's discovery, but for now, just like L himself, it was suspended in anticipation.

Boring, dull anticipation, filled with instances of carpet-plucking.

Time went by much slower in a room that had no clocks or windows to indicate time or date or how many days have passed since he made his latest move.

With his eyes barely open, L traced the microphone cord stretching across the room and through the forest of carpet fibers all the way to his proximity, and he knew he shouldn't.

But he wanted to.

"If you're back to tell me some more reasons why Andrew Murray is the best tennis player of all time, I. Don't. Care. Go away now," a less than welcoming chime of Light's honey voice came from L's speakers, and L realized just how _much_ he shouldn't be talking to this man.

"Tennis, was it," L said regretfully, almost seduced to explain to Light why Andrew Murray as the best Tennis player of all time. But he couldn't, because apparently, he already had.

So instead, he curled his toes, verbally attacked Light's resolve to keep murdering criminals despite how close he came to becoming a suspect, and held his breath, hoping for a response that came as words from Light's soul and not a quotation from Kira's blog.

Once he heard Light's response, L cringed.

"I shall now delete Kira's blog so Light-kun stops from quoting himself."

"That's alright," the honey voice of the brunette laughed pleasantly, "I have all my essays memorized. Besides, my blog has mirrors. Mirrors as far as the eye can see."

L had no doubt in his mind that he could take down all Kira's blog mirror sites in under a minute. And then he would watch Light plant a few thousand more in under a minute; they could do it all night. Which was quite an alternative to what, or rather whom, Light had planned on doing that night.

Each time L pinged Light's cellphone and found it within proximity to Teru Mikami's cellphone, somehow on some level, L got just a little jealous that Light found Teru Mikami's behind more interesting than L's conversation. If L were to bring up Teru Mikami, Light would suspect this, and laugh at him. L decided to focus on business instead.

"I do not quite understand why Light-kun has allowed Halle Linder to live."

"Oh," Light said, _and 'oh well, now that you finally ask, here's the answer I rehearsed for a couple of days' _was what L heard. "Isn't it obvious? If she were to die now, I would be under suspicious again-"

L cringed.

"That is a lie," he cut off yet another unpublished speech Light was trying to feed him, becoming quite annoyed with the whole routine. "Light-kun would be under no more suspicion from both NPA and SPK if Linder were to be electrocuted by her hairdryer. Please try again."

There was a pause, and L felt a glare on the back of his head even though there was nothing there but the wall. He sprang up, dashed across the room to his secondary Mac, and sure enough: there he was through the camera of a Wii Fit, one Light Yagami, glaring daggers at his laptop. L swallowed a giggle.

"Fine," Light said, and his body language told L that he will not be entertaining L with conversation for much longer. "Linder is dangerous, somehow she knows I am Kira without any proof, it would be much better for me if Linder was dead. Halle Linder is alive because she is not a criminal."

L blinked, his lips parted slightly, and a noise that sounded like "huh" escaped into the microphone. Light heard it as static and dismissed it, but L heard his own little 'huh' as a gunshot in a hollow room.

_No deaths of non-criminals?_

He opened his sugar_tea16 e-mail, filtered the names Light had sent him, then downloaded the Death Note's log. The number of names accumulated there was ridiculous, so instead of pulling out random names and figuring out what crime they were guilty of, L opened the source of a random search-spider he had on his desktop and rewrote it a little, assigning number values to crimes. Then, he ran the long list of names through it. The results came back within four minutes.

The results where all either c6, 8, or 9.

Rapists.

War criminals.

Murderers.

Either convicted or free because of prosecution immunity.

There were no exceptions -Kira had only killed those who were guilty of the most severe crimes. No one else. No corrupt politicians that sponsored assassinations. No criminal celebrity for the shock and fear value. Nothing to prove a point. Just those who were obviously guilty of the worst crimes.

"Huh," L said again drawing out his vowels, as if he had learned something new.

In his little spy window of the Wii Fit, L noticed Light carrying on with his business, apparently used to having L disappear on him for ten minutes at a time.

Light had principles L would have never given him credit for.

This meant that Light still had the right to survive past L's plan for him.

It made L feel strangely anxious, because he knew that Light didn't have much time before he would step over the threshold of the unforgivable.

"And does Light-kun plan on punishing those who get in the way of his 'justice'?"

Light acknowledged L's return with a nod.

"Depends on what means they use to get to me. There is almost no way of proving that I am Kira. The only way Linder, for example, can prove that I am Kira is by framing me. If Linder murders someone and frames me for it, then I have a right to kill her because she will therefore be a criminal."

"Ah. But what if Linder murders a criminal to achieve this?"

"Linder does not have the greater good in mind. She will have murdered that criminal for her own gain and therefore she will be a criminal herself. Anything else?"

_There. _

_Double-standards. _

Light had so, so little time before he would lose himself.

"I assume the later already applies to myself and I am therefore a criminal in Light-kun's eyes."

Light hummed a pleasant 'yes.'

"Light-kun is a fair god, yes?"

Light liked being referred to as such.

"Yes?"

L found his sitting on the floor inappropriate for this conversation, so he clutched the microphone and allowed his body to fall freely to his side. He tipped himself left and his cheek met the long fibers of the carpet that were not as plush to his face as they were to his feet.

Feeling as bored and depressed as he felt when he hugged his knees in the corner of the half-empty room, he spoke in quiet, lazy murmur. His puzzle, now complete, was just out of his reach, and L wondered how Light would react to it once he came into this room and saw the picture.

"What is unforgivable to Light-kun as a fair god?

"Well, killing a non-criminal, of course."

_And there it was again. _

"That is incorrect. The unforgivable to Light-kun is that, which contradicts with what Light-kun believes. I can clearly see from the names log that Light-kun strongly believes in only killing murderers and rapists."

"That's what I said."

"No." L started to stretch his vowels again, "Light-kun said specifically 'criminals' and he said this as a _general_ term. Once Light-kun starts seeing the affect he has on this world_, he will realize_ that an even more perfect world would be without violent convicts, then, without corrupt politicians, Then, without robbers, and then, without the thieves and the loan sharks and the drug addicts and the alcoholics and the homeless."

"I won't-!"

"You will. You will, Light-kun. You will as soon as you are cornered by an innocent investigator or an innocent surveillance officer. Their only crime will be their interfering with your perfect plan for a perfect world. And you will kill them."

"Don't be stupid. No one will corner me."

"Ah, but eventually, someone will. That is why I have warned Light-kun from the very start not to use the services of the L or the Death Note."

Light snapped.

"If you feel so strongly about a bunch of criminals, why did you create a thing that can kill them, and why the hell did you give the Death Note to _me_, of all people?"

"Because exactly like Light-kun, I cannot handle it."

_Yet. _

L's eyes drifted shut.

* * *

As soon as Ryuzaki himself had confirmed that the LMN where in fact artificial intelligence to room-full of NPA officers, Light decided to seek professional input. A week later, Light found himself still seeking this input, as Matt was still nowhere to be found ever since the N file hacked into their WiFi.

Briefly, Light considered the possibility that it succeeded, but he knew Matt, and unfortunately for Light's ego, Matt's skill level was identical to his own. It was always put to poor use, sure, but it didn't mean that Matt was stupid enough to get caught.

And yet, all of Matt's activity that Light was able to find were just a few posts on random gaming sites. There, anonymously, Matt declared that he had found the love of his life and was too busy being in love to care about Call of Duty exploits or the latest update of the World of Warcraft's servers.

Which was so unlike Matt that Light retraced the traceroutes to confirm that it was, in fact, Matt declaring his lack of interest to gaming.

_Maybe Matt did get laid. For a week. For the first time in his loser life, _Light thought. The conclusion was acceptable enough, and Light decided to wait it out until Matt lost his mojo and came back to the world of living.

Right now however, thinking about just where the hell Matt had gone to was hardly appropriate.

The ends of his hair a little wet from the shower, but he could not risk drying them. Quietly, Light gathered his folded clothes from the little chair near the motel bed and slipped them on in haste, hoping Teru Mikami would at least know better and pretend to be asleep if Light accidentally woke him.

Teru had still not gotten the hint of just how much he meant to Light, even when Light insisted on taking off his clothes himself and folding them neatly before fucking the dark-haired man hard and leaving him as soon as he was done. Clingy and annoying as the dark-haired man was, Light still could not look at Teru without being ever so slightly reminded of Ryuzaki. And so, he kept seeing him.

Speaking of which.

As soon as he was out on the motel lobby, searching for his car keys, his cellphone alerted him that he had a text message from no other than the internet devil himself. Light found his phone in his pocket, and right next to his own phone, Light found Teru's phone.

Teru, Light realized, was getting desperate for excuses to meet him. He briefly considered throwing the phone away. He checked his message.

_**From our previous conversation: Andrew Murray is the best tennis player of all time, and I stand correct. R. **_

This again.

Light replied: _**From our previous conversation: Death Note's proper use is for justice, and I stand as its proper owner.**_

He just about got into his car and drove it to the center of a main road when it started. A flood of text message beeps. One. After another. After five more. Phone call, after a phone call.

Finally, running out of terrible things he would like to do to whomever implemented no-handheld-devices-while-driving laws, Light groaned and pulled over and stopped at parking of a supermarket.

His texts were all from Ryuzaki.

_**When did we have this conversation? R. **_

Then,

_**Light-kun, we have never had this conversation. R. **_

And,

_**Perhaps Light-kun is talking about the conversation two days and five hours ago where we discussed the code of the Death Note? R. **_

And finally,

_**We did not have the conversation Light-kun mentioned, I am sure of it. R. **_

Ten more texts of the same content sat unread in his inbox. Ryuzaki was scrambling his text messages. Not his computer communication.

And just when Light himself was beginning to panic, an unlisted phone number sang his ringtone.

"What?" Light nearly shouted.

Ryuzaki's scrambled voice spoke in short and fast sentences.

"When did this the conversation occur?"

"Are you saying it wasn't-"

"Please answer the question. When?"

"A few hours ago!"

"What did it entail?"

"Oh shit—"

"Light-kun, what did we talk about?"

"You… god, and justice, and what criminals do and do not deserve it. Ryuzaki, who the-"

"And it was me you spoke to?"

"Apparently not!"

"Was I or was I not speaking to you through the messenger I have installed?"

"Yes!"

It was suddenly very quiet on the other end, and Light could hear his heart pounding.

"Then I suppose it was in fact, me-"

"Ryuzaki what the hell is going on, did I or did I not talk to you today about — you know?"

"Your Kira secret is perfectly protected!" Ryuzaki snapped on the other end, and took deep breaths in faint static. "This is not about you, this is about the L!"

Instantly, Light calmed down. His security systems were just too tight. And so was L's messenger.

"Did I – what, did I speak to the L directly?"

"No, it is not, rather, it- Light-kun, we have met once at a bar, can you confirm this?"

"Well, what did you drink?"

"I had Red Russians, and the bar tender did not make it correctly."

"That's right. I met you."

"Is this, is this," the metallic scrambler called anxiously for the last time before Ryuzaki did something Light never expected him to – the voice scrambler disappeared, and the soft monotone of Ryuzaki's real voice hummed through the phone's speaker, "is this my voice?"

Light's breath got lost in his lungs and an uninvited grin stretched across his face.

"_Oh_ yes," he said evenly.

Ryuzaki droned restlessly, and with whatever he was on about, Light still found it pleasurable to finally hear Ryuzaki's voice again after all this time.

"Light-kun, I have a problem. I have a big problem and I do not understand it."

"Is it about L?"

"No, perhaps the problem is elsewhere, you see, I cannot remember that conversation and yet I know it happened. I am really trying to remember but it is not there and the-"

Puffs of panicked breath came from Ryuzaki's end, and although he sounded calm enough, having met the man, Light realized Ryuzaki was having nothing short of a panic attack.

"Woah," Light had to bite his lip to stop his smile from spreading. This was… "Calm down, okay? Ryuzaki?"

"Yes?"

"Breathe. Deep breaths. Calm down. Okay?"

"Yes."

"Now. Is the L an evolving self-aware hacking mechanism, or does it actually have a personality?"

"It... the L has a developing personality, yes, but the-"

"No. Shush. Deep breaths."

The obedience and deep breaths Ryuzaki took were intoxicating, and longing to reach out and touch the man who created the most amazing piece of software in the world came with a terrible timing.

"Now, is the L capable of developing morals?" Light tried to use Matt's approach and reference mainstream television to figure out what the L might want.

" Light-kun, you are looking at this the wrong way, yes the L can, but that is not the point, what I am trying to say is that _there cannot be two identical persons_, and I don't _remember_ having this conversation with yo-"

The end of the rant never came, and Light waited for it for a full minute before calling out.

"Ryuzaki?"

But on the other end, there was nothing but silence, as if the phone receiver was left in a completely empty room, all by itself.

"Ryuzaki, are you there?"

Nothing. Light himself began to worry.

"Ryuzaki, are you okay? Answer please, and calm down, everything is fine."

He listened, but for another full minute, nothing but deaf silence came through the phone speaker until a small, short breath hissed through the receiver.

"Light-kun?"

"Don't worry me like that, are you-"

"Something is terribly wrong, Light-kun I... I suddenly _remembered_."

* * *

A little over a week after the SPK migrated to Japan, exactly two weeks after M disappeared from the Yotsuba servers, just a few continents over to the North and as close as the hot molten pavement of LA was to Tokyo, someone armed with uneaten chocolate, rage and overconfidence marched into the LAPD and shouted at a startled police officer.

"I'd like a restraining order, to go!"

A skinny redheaded man – well, boy really, as good as ran to stop the delicate flat-chested blonde with an uncharacteristically manly voice. He almost made it, but then his army boot imitations caused him to trip over his feet as he ran, because real army boots were made without two-inch platforms for that precise reason, and he plummeted to the blonde's leather shoes.

"_You_," the blonde roared in an even manlier voice still, "stop fuckin' following' me! And _you_!" he turned to the police officer, who by this point had dropped his doughnut and was staring at the scene before him in concern, "how's my restraining order going'?"

"Is there a problem?" another officer emerged from his desk, having already unclipped his gun fastener and eyeing the redhead in the striped shirt with uttermost suspicion.

"No, uh, no sir, no problem-" the redhead stuttered, but the blonde interrupted him and screamed again.

"Fuck yes there's a fuckin' problem. This creepy piece of shit is following' me!"

"Mello! Mels, I'm not following you, uh officers, I swear I'm not following him, funny story, see, I'm his boyfriend-"

"Never met your faggot ass in my entire life!"

The police officers of LA weren't very keen siding with Matt when, upon some seriously convincing accusations laid by an enraged blonde of a questionable gender, they've discovered that Matt was in the United States as an illegal alien without a passport, a visa, or worst of all, car insurance. Matt could've lied his way out of having himself checked for prior stalking convictions, but Mello chose to be especially 'helpful', and before long, Matt found himself slammed face-first into a table and his fingerprints forcibly lifted and checked.

...and that's how his previous conviction for minor theft showed up; when he was fourteen and visiting the States for his first and only and never-again-_final_ time before this one, Matt found he disagreed with the American tobacco age restrictions, and so he nabbed a couple of smokes. The laptop and its speakers and the car radio theft he was _actually_ charged with had subsequently fallen into his bag on accident.

And so now, Matt found himself in a holding cell with a bench, two wasted junkies, a metal toilet, and a huge guy pissing right past the metal toilet. The worst was that he was still not even close to the smoking age. Yes. Matt officially hated the colonies and the LAPD and the fucking douchebag officer who'd confiscated his PSP.

He should probably wish fire and death onto Mello, too, but, as he'd learned over and over again, waking up in a shit mood and getting Matt arrested was something the blonde did just because.

Or, getting Matt fired from his job, for that matter.

Or, setting Matt's stuff on fire.

Or, folding laundry into triangles.

And something else he'd come to expect from Mello was this: if Matt give up and just got over having his prized Star Trek cosplay uniform set on fire, (or, getting arrested for no reason), eventually- -

"Transfer for… Jeevas Mail. Get up. They're waitin' for you at immigration."

"That was fast," said a bulky guard as he unlocked the cell and pawed his gun in a warning to the drunk junkie who looked ready to make a run for it. "Made a scene this morning, this one. Stalked some poor kid-"

"Yup," was the disinterested and a little too obnoxious response of Matt's 'transfer' officer who was both too young and for the job and too small and blonde for the black-blue uniform he wore. The guard was just about to ignore the interruption and say something more when the officer looked straight at his face.

The guard could have sworn the blonde's black eyes flickered to bright florescent cyan for a brief moment.

"Malone," the officer addressed him by name, which, as a new transfer, the guard had only given to one person at this station. "Need this one fast. Brits want him bad, 'parently the creep's into more than stalking. Like, I'm talkin', porn. With like, goats."

_Thanks very much, _Matt thought, and decided it was best to give up and get over that one, too, and having done that, he found it hilarious how the guard, when he handcuffed him and passed him to his blonde officer, was very careful not to touch _any_ of Matt.

Once in the back of the police cruiser, Matt finally complained.

"Just uncuff me," he whined through the black bars.

Mello turned away from the road to stare at him, and almost smashed the cruiser into a pole.

"Hn. No." the blonde finally said in dismay.

"Come ooon, Mells. Why're you doing thiiis…"

"No."

"But whyyy."

"No. Because no."

"But I totally followed you. And you came and got me from jail. You don't mind me as much as you say you do-"

"Yeah, and followin' me was fuckin' creepy, you shit."

"No," Matt argued, "following you to a gas station to buy chocolate with my credit card is creepy. Following you from Britain to You Ass of bloody Aye is totally… I dunno. Cool."

"Creepy like porn with goats."

"What the fuck is up with you throwing random porno shit at me? Not cool, man. Not cool at all."

"Porn shit," Mello corrected.

"Porno shit," Matt insisted.

"Porn."

"Porno."

Mello ran a red light because in a cop car he most definitely could, but the single red Jaguar waiting for the light to change most definitely would not dare.

"Porn – oh fuck this." With a bump followed by the screech of the tires, Mello's newly acquired police cruiser ran over a curb and drifted to a stop just under a shady-looking metro bridge, where, Matt suspected, Mello picked up the car and the clothes and dumped a real, naked, unconscious and tied-up officer. Wearing a seatbelt, Mello was fine. Without a seatbelt and handcuffed, Matt's face got imprinted with the black police bars. "Listen, _you_. Maybe you don't fucking get it yet. You, in Britain. Playin' World of Warcraft and bein' a loser." Mello made a plate with his left hand and waved it on his left. Then, he made a plate with his right hand, and did the same. "Me. In America. Takin' down N and then Kira, and probably the L 'cause the poor thing is so fucked up, and getting' killed in the process. Questions?-"

"Yes, I have qu-"

"No questions? Good! Fuck off back to Britain!"

"Dude, I'm totally with you on the getting killed part-"

"You're a fucking idiot! It's all fun for you on the internet where you can hack 4chan and put dancing pudding on the front page, but this shit will get you killed and you will die after being killed by killers… yeah, killers of death, just go home!"

Matt learned that when Mello pronounced his suffixes, he meant hell, but Matt also knew he'd said the right thing, and so he grinned. "Nah."

Mello burned holes in the driver mirror's reflection of Matt's smug face, but said nothing, just plotted hell in silence.

Not too far away from them, the pissed and proud Jaguar owner honked at the red light that still had not changed.

"…so," the redhead said, shuffling hopefully, "wanna like, uncuff me now? 'Cause I'm guessing you didn't strip a copper and jack his car just to get silly ol' me out of jail, am I right or am I right?"

Mello shifted, bashfully.

"_Her_ car, _her_ garb."

"Looks good."

"…Thanks."

And just about when Matt thought Mello had finally decided to appreciate Matt's awesomeness through showing him some love by uncuffing him, a metro train passed over the suspended bridge above them. It went by much faster than anything Matt thought was by any stretch of imagination safe, and the deafening shriek the steel wheels made against the electric railing were a sure way of telling that when some hundred meters away from them the bridge turned, the train would not turn with it.

With all its speed, the first of the train cars were now in a momentous state of free-fall, hovering above the Jaguar that had had a red light for over ten minutes.

And then, the train landed, and shreds of metal went up in the air like bits of tin foil while the bridge's concrete fell away from its edges like crumbs.

"Shit," hissed Mello and darted his eyes from window to window.

Matt did the same.

"There!" he said and pointed, and Mello whipped his head around and held his breath.

A parking lot surveillance camera was overlooking the area to the left of them.

"It's wired. Late nineties. Probably not live."

Cyan flickered in Mello's eyes, and the blue-black uniform made an odd rustling noise as the blonde not-officer relaxed his shoulders and let them drop.

The train wreckage ahead of them was just beginning to crumble, and the first of the death mongers taking videos and pictures were beginning to congregate around it.

"Let's get outta here."

"No."

"Mels, the people are-"

"No. Matt, I've no way of finding out, so I need you to swear so tell me honestly." Matt could see Matt's knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. "You been to jail for anythin' legit? Assault, manslaughter, murder, terrorism – anythin'?"

"No! Nothing other than the smokes thing-"

"Matt-"

"I swear!"

"Matt, I can't risk having you around if Kira has _any_ reason to target you. I'm not gonna-"

"I swear I haven't done anything!"

They were quiet for a long minute.

"I may get you killed."

"Dude. Some… probably rapist in that car just got hit with a _train_. One, if this shit is for real then anything can get anyone killed, and two, um, train wreck, people with cameras, Youtube, let's get the fuck outta here, hello?"

Mello, finally in more reasonable mood, drove away from the wreckage through the backstreet alleys.

"I don't even understand why you're... yeah," Mello said after twenty minutes of charged silence.

""Cause, well, honestly, you're the coolest motherfucking thing on the whole bloody planet."

Very subtly, M smiled, and Matt grinned back at him.

* * *

**Press.**

l

l

l

V**  
**


	7. Corrupted Files

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, and YES to you people behind me in the library, YES, I am paranoid that you're reading over my shoulder, YES, this is why my text is only size 6, and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

_Blue, and blue._

_Red blood sticks like glue._

-The Cardigans

**CH07: Corrupted Files**

On the other side of the world, it was 4 in the morning, and Light Yagami still had not made it home.

With Ryuzaki's distress call looking like nothing more than a cry for attention, Light hummed happily and celebrated his small victory over the impossible man with, what else, an execution of an LA serial rapist he would have otherwise put off until his daily morning judgment.

Though Light couldn't imagine Ryuzaki as a particularly sociable bird, he still found it incredibly sweet that it was Light Ryuzaki chose share his concerns with. About... well, about whatever. Light didn't know, nor did he particularly care for Ryuzaki's state of mind when he had rabid SPK members to worry about.

And also basic human needs Ryuzaki didn't seem to be affected by, like sleep.

_Ding._

_**Dear Light-kun! In light of the latest progress in our relationship, I have reconsidered my initial repulsion to your person. I thereby suggest a meeting to discuss this development. R. **_

Of course in Light's mind, the message translated to _"To my love Light-kun: please meet me again and I will allow you to take another shot at fucking me. Also, I am completely insane and I will probably deny you sex, but I don't really mean it. Also, my opinions about tennis are all invalid, and therefore Light-kun's opinions are all correct. I also like tea with sugar in it. xxx Ryuzaki."_

And so Light texted him a time and a room number at a local motel.

_**Not that kind of meeting. R. **_

Light replied with an alternative time and a room number at a local five-star hotel with room service.

_**The location is now acceptable, although I believe Light-kun is missing my point. R. **_

Feeling particularly criminal, Light texted Ryuzaki as he drove home, and even as he crept up the stairs of his parents' house.

Their conversation had by then evolved Light a guessing hot-or-cold game of where-is-Ryuzaki.

_**A bat cave.**_

_Ding. _

_**Warm, but no. It is rather hard to find a suitable bat cave with electricity. R. **_

Light fished his pocket for the key to his room.

_**A bathroom.**_

_Ding. _

_**Very no.R. **_

The corner of a paper was still wedged between his door and the doo rframe, and so was the lead, both untouched. Light pulled out and pocketed both with one hand while texting.

_**A bathhouse.**_

_Ding. _

_**Hot. Light-kun almost has it. R.**_

But once inside, the fatigue finally got him and he felt and the all too familiar all-nighter shudder run down his spine. He shut his door, locked it, but the thought of bright light made him cringe, so he started undressing in the dark. His clothes faintly smelled of sweat and Teru Mikami, and Light couldn't be happier when he shrugged his shirt off.

_**A bathtub.**_

But then he heard a rustle his shirt could not possibly make unless his shirt owned a cellphone and was capable of pressing buttons.

_Ding, _but Light ignored it, and in one swift motion he picked up his tennis racket, aimed it at his dark room and flipped the light switch on. Ready for the brief moment of blindness, he sucked in lungfulls of air, ready to scream for his father's gun if whoever stupid enough to break into his room in the middle of the night wasn't Sayu.

It wasn't Sayu.

Shirtless and armed with a tennis racket and a cellphone, Light's jaw went slack, and he felt as ridiculous as he looked.

More button-mashing.

_Ding. _

Dumbfounded, he read Ryuzaki's latest message.

_**Congratulations Light-kun! You have found me. Hello. R. **_

_Well, of course you're in my room, where else can you be,_Light thought and blinked at the absurdity of it all.

"Well, hello there," he said.

Perched up on Light's bed with his behind planted comfortably on Light's only pillow, Ryuzaki sat with his knees drawn under his chin. The hand that was not holding a tea cup Light recognized as one from his mother's kitchen, was holding a red flip-phone cluttered with at least five dangling charms. One of Ryuzaki's phone charms was a Hello Kitty.

One of Light's eyebrows twitched, but being himself, he dropped the tennis racket and struck a tasteful half-nude pose.

Ryuzaki responded by vigorously waving his hand.

"You know," Light observed, "normal people would have just warned me ahead of time so I could pick up some flavored lotion on my way."

Although Light could bet his antivirus on Ryuzaki being the flavored lotion type, the man in question did not look particularly amused.

"And cake," Light added.

"It is not normal," Ryuzaki suddenly started saying, and the low hum of his voice sent pleasant warmth down Light's stomach for the second time that night, "for a household of four to have absolutely no edible sweets and only two ounces of sugar."

"…so we have no sugar left, do we?"

Ryuzaki bowed his messy head to look into his cup, shook the steaming tea gently,and sucked his lower lip.

"No, I suppose you do not," he said after some consideration.

"So…" Light shot Ryuzaki and his own bed a suggestive glare that proposed that perhaps Light should join the two of them.

"Ah-ha!" stone-faced and serious, Ryuzaki raised one bony hand and extended his long index finger to Light's left wall. "The room of Light-kun's underage sister." His finger then trailed to his right and pointed the opposite direction. "the room of Light-kun's father who is unaware of Light-kun's sexual promiscuity. Also the room of Light-kun's mother, who most certainly will not be proud to find her son not keeping his excitement in his pants."

Light rubbed the bridge of his nose, but as if to drill his point directly under Light's skin, Ryuzaki still had one thing to point at.

His bony finger tapped his own forehead.

"The object of Light-kun's sexual interest," he droned in low and pleasant monotone without any part of his face twitching in gloating mockery. Instead, Light felt it through the stare of the man's owlish eyes.

Light simply rolled his eyes, snatched the bony hand from the man's forehead and almost laughed when Ryuzaki allowed himself to be dragged and plotted into Light's swivel computer chair.

Almost miraculously, the pale man managed to save his tea.

Light made a note to tip it over later.

"If you aren't going to take your clothes off, hack something."

"I feel objectified."

Light shook the chair and the man in it.

"If you aren't interested in joining me in bed or hacking anything, then what's the point of you?"

The large panda eyes searched for an answer in Light's ceiling.

"I drink tea, therefore I am."

"You _steal_ my tea, therefore you are," Light corrected. "You're down to stealing food now. That's murder, and now theft. Not looking too good for your high moral standing."

"Hmm," Ryuzaki said in a momentary consideration, smacked both of Light's hands that were still hanging onto the back of the swivel chair, and then pushed himself off the desk with one foot and swirled.

Light was watching the black mop of that disaster Ryuzaki dared to call a haircut spin and sway, and to him, it looked like all the strange man wanted to say was 'whee' but instead when the chair came to a stop, Ryuzaki said it was time to get back to business.

"There are three items on our agenda-"

"This is a meeting?"

"This is a meeting," Ryuzaki confirmed and held up his index finger. "One. I do not remember. Two. I have technically not killed anyone so I demand a pardon from Light-kun's list of criminals. Tree. I do not remember."

"So there's only one item on your agenda."

"No," the man protested and sipped his tea diplomatically, "there are three items on my agenda. Although two of them serve to distract Light-kun from the importance of the third one, they are somewhat vital nevertheless."

Light snorted a chuckle and Ryuzaki trailed his eyes to the corner of the black NetBook that peaked out of Light's bag. The Death Note looked harmless now that its battery light was fading away, begging for a charge.

"I apologize, Light-kun," staring at the Death Note seemed to pull Ryuzaki back to reality. Light saw it in the black eyes when they came into focus – very suddenly, Ryuzaki saw the world around him, really saw it, and for whatever reason, he liked none of what he saw. "I lied just now," he continued, his soft monotone suddenly sharper. "You will soon learn that I tend to lie a lot. I have several items on my agenda. The reason I say that I have committed no crime by executing criminals on your behalf is that I in fact, committed no crime. However I fully intend to kill someone tonight, therefore I want to make sure that the crime Light-kun will get upset over is the crime that actually _counts_."

"Really."

"Light-kun does not seem to take my motives seriously."

"I don't know your motives. You won't tell me. You won't even tell me what the L is."

"Light-kun will soon figure out what the L is. Light-kun will have to continue investigating the three AIs –and you cannot stop yourself at this point even if you wanted Light-kun think he can outplay me? Does Light-kun think he can hack my scripts and unlock my three artificial intelligences? Do you think you can out-_god_ me, Light-kun?"

Light chuckled and leaned over the pale man curled up in his chair. He locked Ryuzaki in place with both hands on the bony shoulders, but there was barely any reaction to the offense. Large black eyes just stared up at him, and when Light leaned in further, Ryuzaki didn't retreat. Instead, he met him half-way until their noses touched and Light could feel sweet, warm breath on his lips.

He could kiss him, but this was the battle that could only be won by words.

"If you didn't need me so badly for something, you wouldn't have given me the Death Note," Light hissed sweetly, his lips just hairs away from Ryuzaki's. "So whatever it is that you're trying to get – it's mine. So are you."

Although even breaths didn't give Ryuzaki away, his eyes did – Ryuzaki was considering closing the distance between them.

"I also intend to take the Death Note from Light-kun."

"I know."

"We are currently both in the position where neither of us can give each other up to authorities."

"Yes."

Just when Light thought he finally had him, Ryuzaki withdrew into his own personal space.

"And so I have a proposition for Light-kun."

Light sighed.

_It's always business. _

"So do I."

"Would Light-kun agree to play God with me?"

"Would you like to be my opponent?"

"Yes," Ryuzaki extended his open palm to Light.

"Then yes," Light shook on it.

"To the death," Ryuzaki said, and when he saw Light pick up for a paper knife from his desk, his eyes narrowed in dull annoyance. "I did not mean _now_."

"Oh," Light brushed him off, "not related. You're going to prove to me that you're a human being and not a creepy robot AI who's having memory lapses because you forgot to input memory data – Ryuzaki, what are you doing with you face?"

The corners of Ryuzaki's thin lips reached up and the edges of his impossibly round and tired eyes softened.

Suddenly, Light realized that this was Ryuzaki's smile, as odd as the man himself.

He felt slightly bad for insulting it.

"Actually you're adorable. I'm going to that guess you don't smile a lot, do you?"

"No," Ryuzaki agreed without dropping his face. "However, I am truly impressed by the extent of Light-kun's reasoning."

"…so you are a creepy robot AI?"

Ryuzaki smiled again and took the paper blade from Light's hand, rolled up his too-short sleeve and slid the silver edge an inch under his skin then dragged it down his upper arm for a good measure. The carve in his arm bled freely, and a moment into the cut the blood was already tackling down the entire length of the knife to Ryuzaki's long fingers.

"Jesus!" Light hissed and took the bloody knife right out of the wound before Ryuzaki did anymore damage. "Are you insane?"

The palm of his whole hand was now bloody, too. The edge of Ryuzaki's sleeve was now soaking red, and the drops of red blood tapped at the chestnut hardwood. While Ryuzaki just sat there and stared at his bleeding arm,Light quickly stripped his pillow and pressed it onto the cut. A somewhat annoyed flinch replaced Ryuzaki's smile, but the man said nothing while Light fussed and expressed his discontent.

"You're an idiot!" he jerked the wounded arm by the elbow into the air and Ryuzaki flinched again. "I meant, make a nick, not _kill yourself_!"

"Light-kun wanted proof, I gave Light-kun proof," the man sulked and actually attempted to reach for his tea cup with his other hand that was covered in blood. Light smacked it away.

"You'll also give me a new pillow case, a new cup, two ounces of sugar and a tea bag, and you'll clean my floor." He checked the cut. The bleeding had almost stopped. "Hold it – hold it I said, don't touch the damn tea. Hold it. I'll go get some bandages."

By the time Light made it to and from the bathroom without turning on any lights or making any noises, Ryuzaki wasn't holding the makeshift gauze anymore. He was messing with the Death Note instead.

In fact, he bypassed all window monitors Light had no success in hacking through, and was staring at the source code that was changing even as Light approached him.

Light sat the rubbing alcohol onto his desk and ran one dump cotton ball over Ryuzaki's wound.

The man who insisted sitting like a bird hissed and flinched and inched away.

"Stay still, you." Light fussed and considered punching the idiot just to keep the lightly-bleeding arm still. "Mutation strings, huh," he said, referring to the script.

"Yes," Ryuzaki said in thought. Something was apparently bothering him. "I am happy to see Light-kun is wearing a shirt again. So I will return the favor and tell him that this is the packet that is linked to the L," he hovered the cursor over the part of script that rewrote itself faster than others.

It looked like an ever-changing packet that Light would have loved to look at if something else didn't catch his attention.

Right under it linked directly into its relatively short script was something else that was refreshing IP addresses like a powerful redirector, except Light could see that it was not.

And right under it was a dormant variation of the same script.

And it was an eyesore, because unlike everything else that was mutating and changing at different speeds, this thing was completely still.

"And what is that?" Light pointed to it with a bloody cotton ball.

"Trouble."

"Someone's hacking into Death Note source code? Ryuzaki," Light sighed in frustration, "this is something you tell me before-"

But he was interrupted.

"No, and yes. Do not worry yourself over this yet, Light-kun. However," Ryuzaki gestured to the webcam where he replaced the yellow Post-it note that Light had taken off earlier that week, "keep this."

"You are going to save my Death Note from being hacked with a Post-it," Light muttered and Ryuzaki gave a particularly violent twitch in response to disinfectants.

"Indeed I am. Is Light-kun _done_ yet?"

Light glared and wrapped the bandage too tightly. "It's going to scar," he said, examining his handiwork, then the bloody sleeve and the delicate neck and finally, the soft features of the porcelain face Ryuzaki wore like a mask of indifference. The large black pupils Light could barely distinguish form pearly black irises were once again dilated, large, and altogether gone from the real world.

"Where have you gone to?" Light wondered quietly.

"Hmm?"

Zero interest.

Light tried again.

"So who did you say you were going to kill today?"

Ryuzaki tried moving his arm around.

"I did not say."

"And you aren't going to say, are you."

"I am not going to say," Ryuzaki confirmed. "In fact, after the event, Light-kun will find me with a rather convenient memory loss of the subject."

Yup.

Ryuzaki was done being interested in anything and so the conversation was over.

Light realized how tired he was and rubbed his tired eyes with a clean sleeve because his hands were still bloody. It was nearing six in the morning, and in thirty minutes, he would have to get ready for work regardless of the amount of sleep he got. Or, did not all.

He really hoped nothing too dramatic required his attention at Cybercrimes and he could get off early.

"Right." Light said, and for a brief moment, his eyes caught the sight of his own palms, covered in blood that was not his. For some reason, he couldn't look at his hands for too long, and he wiped them on the pillowcase. Random droplets of blood on his computer desk bothered him just as much.

He finished up cleaning the area tossed the bloody pillowcase at Ryuzaki. "Floor, clean it. Take off your shirt, too. I can't have you walking out of my house like I tried to cut your hand off."

Ryuzaki made a very convincing argument as to precisely why he should not be in any state of undress anywhere near Light.

Light made a very convincing counter-argument about not wearing bloody clothing in public.

Ryuzaki argued that he will not be seen by the public anyway as he was just leaving.

Light made another convincing counter-argument by stomping his foot. On Ryuzaki's foot.

Ryuzaki kicked him in the knee-caps as a reply.

After their conversation went on for a few minutes, Light had finally convinced Ryuzaki to take off his shirt by pulling it forcefully off the man's pale body.

But when instead of letting him go, Light just pressed himself into the back of the thin body and held it in place by the hips, Ryuzaki didn't react as violently. He just waited patiently, comfortable with the knowledge that inside his parents' house, Light simply would not dare go any further than brief and quiet touches. And Light was doing just that – light, comforting touches along the slight curve of Ryuzaki's hipbones.

Smooth along the marble skin.

Pressing gently into the cool lower belly.

Warm breaths tickling the curve of the delicate neck.

The lower down Ryuzaki's stomach the hands traveled, the more pressure they applied, until one tugged at the hem of loose jeans.

"Don't," Ryuzaki warned him.

Light allowed his fingers to toy with the hem.

"I can _so_ have you right now."

"Right now, Light-kun?"

Light hooked his fingers into the belt loops of the loose jeans and span the man around. Their noses touched again, but this time the hermit genius wasn't sitting down, or even slouching. They were face to face, eye to eye, their chests and hips were pressed together, perfectly leveled. Light could feel Ryuzaki's member against his thigh, and Ryuzaki could definitely feel his.

"Yes," Light whispered and held the man in place around his waist, "very, very quietly."

Ryuzaki actually, for a moment, considered, and Light took his chance before the man could come up with a definite 'no' and its lengthy justification. He kissed the man, quickly and efficiently. The sweet mouth under his own moved in delayed protest, but Ryuzaki was just as late to fix that mistake.

Light kissed Ryuzaki's mouth, nipped and licked the parted lips, and the chapped lips very faintly quivered under his own.

Sweet.

Bitter like Light's Orange Pekoe, sweet like Light's last two ounces of sugar.

Inexcusably, repulsively _sweet_.

The taste and the jagged texture of the chapped lips were so much L. L. Something dubbed Ryuzaki, that Light wondered if he hated sweets a little less now.

He wanted to kiss the entire sweet mouth. The smooth curve of the jaw would not open any further for him, so Light used his hand to pull it down. Ryuzaki finally opened wide for Light. Warm, smooth, wet. Sweet, sweet, tongue, pushing against the intrusion and putting up too strong of a fight for their kiss to be classified as a regular kiss.

This was another fight, Light realized.

_Do I have to fight you to the end on everything?_Light thought and Ryuzaki made a tiny soft noise at the back of his throat, and Light heard it as a 'yes.'

He wanted this man. Right there and then. So badly that it hurt the back of his mind. It hurt him in his lower gut, too, and Light pressed his slight arousal harder into Ryuzaki's thigh.

_Too far,_ Light realized in the bitterest disappointment he ever felt. Light could keep himself very quiet. Ryuzaki would not. And even if by some amazing skill on Light's part that he could get Ryuzaki to actually allow himself to be taken without a fuss, there was no way Ryuzaki _could_keep himself quiet.

Light pulled away first, and to his triumph, Ryuzaki followed Light's retreating mouth with a few final pecks.

"Tonight," Light promised.

"I am afraid that by the end of the day, Light-kun will not have the energy to do what he is threatening to do."

"So that is a 'yes'?"

"That is a 'no'," Ryuzaki denied, forcing his breaths to calm down before he adding, "but if it is of any comfort to Light-kun, as Light-kun can tell, I am at least entertaining the notion of being with another man."

Light sighed, and had no choice but to agree.

He would just have to wait it out and do Ryuzaki properly.

And thoroughly.

Satisfied with his own conclusions, Light left a half-naked Ryuzaki to stand awkwardly in the middle of his room while he went to retrieve some spare clothing to dress the man with.

And then, when he heard a knock on his door, just for a moment, Light was blessed with a false sense of security and the memory of safely locking the said door.

Light could just grab his nightly guest, shove him into the closet, then unlock the door and tell his father that everything was fine and the noises the old officer heard where just Light getting dressed for work early.

That would have been the ideal, most optimal course of action for both himself and Ryuzaki.

However when the knock on the door did come, the last thing Light expected, the thing Light was completely unprepared for, was for the dishevelled, shirtless and slightly out of breath Ryuzaki to unlock the door and greet Light's speechless father.

Light wanted to write his own name in the Death Note.

**- Alt -**

"-and as soon as Light-kun became aware of this mutation-string script that is a clear threat to national security, he immediately requested my assistance. On my way here, I wondered into an unfortunate dark alley and was mugged and stabbed, which would account for both my present state and my lack of personal belongings. I then called Light-kun and asked him to come and pick me up. Light-kun's father had appeared just as Light-kun had finished applying bandages and giving me a set of clothes that were not bloody."

"If you were mugged_, Ryuga-san_, why did they let you keep your phone?"The older Yagami grunted as he made a particularly dangerous turn on a busy intersection.

Apparently, there was in fact an actual national security threat that demanded Light's immediate attention.

So far, he had not had any sleep in twenty-three hours, and Ryuzaki made a note that Light did not show it. Light took it as a compliment, as it came from someone who most definitely knew what no sleep would look like in the mirror.

"Ah," Ryuzaki nodded, as if accepting a fair challenge. He emptied his pockets on the back passenger seat. "I am always prepared such an occasion."

Eight pieces of caramels, two single keys, a sting of liquorish, two packets of mints, a peanut bar, ninety-four cents in change, three USB sticks and nine bags of biscuits were the relatively normal things that came out of Ryuzaki's pockets. Three mismatched cellphones were not, and a stack of multi-colored condoms that topped off the pile were just inappropriate.

The NPA chief found them highly suspicious.

"Light-kun's father does not believe my story," Ryuzaki said very sadly, and his ridiculous hair flattened against his head for extra miserable appearance.

Light resisted an urge to slap himself on the forehead. Instead, he smiled apologetically, like this kind of thing was perfectly normal coming for his 'old friend.'

"Sorry, dad. He's..."

_Special?_

_An idiot?_

_So, so dead for this?_

"...always like that."Light finished.

**- Alt-**

Once inside the Cybercrimes office, Light found himself staring at the thing he had seen on his Death Note earlier that morning.

The fact that it made itself comfortable on the NPA mainframe computer was unsettling.

"It looks like a basic daemon-"

"Like, the CD emulator?" said someone whose officership was unrelated to Cybercrimes.

"A daemon is a background process; it can be of anything. It's usually light, starts on boot and ends the parent process as soon as it replies to a request. If it's spyware, it's not really hard to fish out-"

"Problem with this one is," Ryuzaki cut off Light's glorious explanation mid-sentence through a half-chewed caramel, "Light-kun had spent two hours prior to getting here trying to get rid of this daemon from his own computer."

The pointed, blank stare Ryuzaki was giving him meant that some sort of agreement was required.

"I have," Light confirmed with a very honest face. "I only didn't kill it because I thought it was curious and I thought I'd ask for Ryuzaki's opinion on it-"

"-Unfortunately, I had the same problem," Ryuzaki finished for him and gave Light another blank stare. This one, Light figured, must either mean that Ryuzaki wants him to play along, or, judging by how tightly he was hugging his knees in one of the department's black swivel chairs, it might have meant that he needed to pee.

"Woah there," Matsuda was the first to realize the implication of Ryuzaki being infected by the mysterious spyware string, "you're not NPA, Ryuga-san, are you?"

"No, I am indeed not NPA." Ryuzaki picked his other foot off the ground and used it to propel his chair across the room like a child in a shopping cart. His chair went straight for Matsuda, and the man awkwardly jumped out of Ryuzaki's way when he realized the overgrown hermit had no intention of stopping. "In fact, if Matsuda-san was to pick any computer in Japan, I can guarantee he will find this exact daemon on it with a 91 percent certainty."

The Japanese cybercrimes division fell silent.

"_All_ of Japanese computers?"

The question was addressed to Light and to Light specifically, not to the miserable-looking stray with advanced computer expertise but limited credibility whom Light seemed to have picked up from a shady back alley. Authority over the room was still Light's, but with this new 'consultant' character, his absolute power was fading. Light had to come up with something other than 'yes' or 'possibly.'

_Um, so…_

But he was drawing blank.

Oh, this would have been such a great topic to discuss when they had the privacy for it, but at the time, Ryuzaki seemed to think cutting his arm open was a better use of his time.

He backtracked his memory to 6AM.

_Ryuzaki messing with Death Note source code. The yellow Post-it. The yellow Post-it over the webcam._

"Well, technically not all," Light began with an air of certainty around him. "Only the ones with webcams."

Ryuzaki confirmed.

"This is why I have initially described the problem to Soichiro Yagami-san as a 'matter of national security.' It appears all computers in Japan are now live transmitters of live webcam streams."

"The webcams are off, so we're good" said Mogi.

But they weren't _good_.

Light had felt the same sense of security once, but Mogi served as a loud reminder of the unfavorable reality Light was facing. N had the ability to turn of Light's wireless, and then, like seemingly random receptors on a circuit board, random pieces of information Light had about _everything_ lit up and connected.

_One: SPK buys N. Two: N tries to stream live data from everyone that had been inside Yotsuba servers, including Light and Matt. Three: N can hack a wireless switch. _

If the N could hack into wireless switch, there was no particular reason it could not hack into a webcam.

_Four: This was how SPK suddenly realized Light was Kira. Five: This was why they could not present their extremely illegal proof. _

Light did not turn to look at directly at her, but he used the reflection of his highly reflective metallic speakers he bought just so that he could spy on people behind him. Halle Linder stood at the back of the small crowd behind Light. She was perfectly calm, and the false concern in her defined features had an undertone of triumph.

The bitch knew.

The bitch was sure that Light didn't know that she knew.

Light decided to keep it that way.

"Yes," he agreed. "We're good," he said, despite their situation being nothing short of a medium-sized crisis. Somewhere high up on the government pyramid, someone was, without a doubt, running around in circles, panicking and shredding documents.

"Right," Light clapped his hands as an encouraging and motivating gesture that was a polite way of saying he was about to work the entire Cybercrimes to death. "Let's get rid of this thing before it picks anything from national defense. Issue an alert to all departments. Then, work around to temporary disable it, work on how to get rid of it, issue all the appropriate alerts. I'll go after the thing. Redirector or monitor volunteers?"

**- Alt-**

Light ended up with Mogi breathing down his neck upon his father's friendly suggestion (when Light insisted on keeping Ryuzaki around the Cybercrimes office until their crisis was solved).

Light had short-term girlfriends of questionable profession that were better received by his father then Ryuzaki.

"So how come we've never heard of you," Mogi asked without even bothering to conceal that he was asking on Soichiro's behalf.

"Privacy concerns," Ryuzaki mouthed around the tip of a round flesh-colored lollipop. The little bastard was fucking with Light. Again.

"Privacy concerns," Light snorted and spat. "I believe the correct term your doctor used was 'Paranoid Schizophrenia.'"

Judging by the large panda-eyes that widened in comic shock, Ryuzaki was taken aback by this statement.

"Could my doctor possibly be the same doctor that diagnosed Light-kun with Acquired Narcissism?"

"Say what you want," Light retorted and fired up all of his security before accessing the static mutation script spyware from his terminal. "You can't live down tie-dye condoms. Ever."

As Ryuzaki predicated, all of Cybercrimes' terminals were infected.

For the sake of convenience, Light went after the one on his own workstation. The static daemon and it's script, he realized after three painful hours of failing to isolate its location on his system, was not static. It was a mutation string, but unlike its twin on the Death Note, it was mutating very slowly.

Locating it on his terminal was a little bit like locating Ryuzaki. At any time other than _this_ time. Given that the cyber genius was not chewing random pieces of candy behind Light.

Light's corner office became a high-traffic zone, as it always did with any cyber emergency; that coupled with Ryuzaki making strange noises while lurking around his office made Light too agitated to concentrate, and the stupid spyware would not go away.

So when Ryuzaki had ran out of candy, Light took a breath of relief because (at least he hoped this would be the case) Ryuzaki would finally stop munching and crunching on things behind his back, going through his office files, and making rolling noises with the swivel chair's wheels.

But Ryuzaki did not stop. Once his candy had run out, he set up a post guarding the entrance to Light's castle and only granted entry if the passing officers would feed him.

"_Ryuga-san_," Light finally smiled in Ryuzaki's general direction. "Perhaps you would like to make yourself useful and consult me on the _nature_ of this spyware?"

It was as if the little bastard was waiting for Light to hit a brick wall, swallow his pride, and just ask.

"I assume Light-kun had spent all this time modifying common anti-viruses to get rid of the pesky mutation string?"

"Yes."

"I assume Light-kun has failed."

"Look," Light snapped, "we have to get rid of it using software people already _have _and issue updates for that software people would _download_. This isn't just you or me, it's Japan, and it's my job."

Ryuzaki acknowledged Light's argument with a blank stare.

"Light-kun makes a fair point. However," he crushed a minty with his back teeth, "Light-kun will not be able to overwrite the existing anti-viruses to detect and eliminate the string."

"Yes I can."

Ryuzaki nodded.

"Yes, Light-kun can. Allow me to rephrase. Light-kun will not be able to overwrite the existing anti-viruses to detect and eliminate the string within a reasonable time period, which will take roughly as long as it took to design the script."

"How long?"

Ryuzaki looked at Light's wall-clock and poked the air of its general direction, as if counting hours.

"Four months."

Light gave him a dirty stare.

"Did you write this," he hissed.

"No," Ryuzaki very obviously lied.

"Right. Thanks a lot."

"Light-kun is very welcome," Ryuzaki whispered secretively "Is Light-kun aware that every single webcam in Japan is currently sending live feeds to a single recipient?"

"Yes I know, and thank you _very_ much for your N, too," Light hissed again.

"Please redirect all complaints to the SPK. But, what is Light-kun planning to do about it?"

Light wonderedand decided this was a good time to change tactics. His fresh pot of coffee was done, and he poured himself his fourth mug that day. He offered Ryuzaki none of his coffee, drank it black, and savoured the sour expression of his unwanted companion.

"Going after the source, Light-kun?"

But not just tracking and finding it, and Light opened all the software he especially designed for hacks to make sure Ryuzaki knew what he was about to do.

Light was going to track Ryuzaki's precious N. He was going to trap it. Disable its migration paths. Then, fry it inside of its own hardware.

Having lost all interest in it, a bony, pale hand gingerly placed a bag of gummy bears on Light's table. The thin man cringed, bit his lip, but made no protest.

"Good. At least we're on the same page."

So Light went at it.

The places the N was redirecting Light weren't quite as ridiculous as the Moon, nor were they as numerous.

Light drank coffee, mug after mug, and worked, and eventually, Ryuzaki 'borrowed' a laptop from somewhere and after some demonstrations of distaste to PCs, joined him.

They were brilliant together, they really were. Ryuzaki didn't have much to work with other than whatever he had on three USB flash drives from his pockets, but he steamrolled through false virtual networks and cleared path for Light to isolate real redirector sources.

From time to time, whenever Light could spare a moment away from the activity window, he would glance to his side and watch Ryuzaki be still as a marble monument except for his hands. The bony typist fingers would tap away at the keys as if the keyboard was just an extension of him. The black pearls of the pale man's eyes were focused once again, and it wasn't like Ryuzaki was looking at the world around him as his own, instead, it was like Ryuzaki was looking at his world through the monitor.

Finally, they traced the final redirector, and security programs attacked Light as soon as he found himself in the United States. New York. LA. New York. LA again.

New York.

From the corner of his eye, Light could see Linder storming out of the conference room down the hall to take a phone call.

The security protocols weren't attacking just Light, and he could hear from the chaos outside that one by one, his entire division was being taken out.

Their common IP was obviously detected, too fast for Light to even consider what to do about it.

"Guys, it's me, stall it," Light called out to the hallway.

Under attack, it was either Cybercrimes or N.

Everyone was going down, except for Light, Light was still in, and knowing well that whatever security he had up was not protecting him, his eyes darted to Ryuzaki's screen, then back to his own. Ryuzaki was manually redirecting the hits Light was supposed to take.

And then-

There it was.

The source.

The enormous database housing one of the three largest programs in the world.

The N directory.

Right there.

Light blasted it with everything he had.

At that precise moment, Ryuzaki got kicked, and a blue screen of death came over his monitor like a curtain. But Light was done, and he could spare a moment to look.

For a second, Ryuzaki's blue screen remained absolutely blank.

Then, it was flooded with text, but it wasn't an error report that showed up on his screen.

_**STOP:**__ LX00000001 __**(0xOOOOOOOC, 0x000000002, 0x00000000, 0xF86B5A89)**_

_JAPAN_

_JAPAN_

_JAPAN_

_JAPAN DONT LET L EXECUTE; WATCH WHOEVER WAS USING THIS TERMINAL; HE IS GONNA KI_

_**EVENT ID 10:**__ USER ADMINISTRATOR AT __**HOST M**__ HAS TIMED OUT_

* * *

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN OMNIOUS WARNING.**

**NOTE 1: No, there is no BB in this story. **

**NOTE 2: L doesn't want to kill Light (yet).  
**

Thank yous for reading and reviewing and giving me love and LIKE, AWESOME PEOPLE WHOM I LOVE SHOUTOUTS: **orangeducttape, WinterLuvNaturom YourWorstDaydream, yuien, X.X, DarkAngelJudas, willie hilm, Rokka-chan, scarletaiden, Empty Melodies, Cakeat, yellowrose87, fullmoons-wings, merichuel, strawberry flavoured, Viyola, 01000011 01000010, NoahBody, SecretlyTwisted, Ms. Random Freak, Hatsuharu Miku, DNLover02, Eiriandkuramalover09, demonlifehealer, Aliniatte, HPGal3,** AND **Behan. **I LOVE YOU ALL IN GIANT CAPLOCK, SEE HOW FAST I UPDATED? I DID IT OUT OF LOVE!

**Mello:** whomever L is gonna kill is going to make _so_ much sense.

**CH08: Blue Screen of Death, part 1**

If you have any guesses as to whom L is going to kill and why, I would love to hear them!

But then again, if you don't have any guesses, I'd still love to hear what you thought of this chapter!

Thanks!

l

l

l

V


	8. Blue Screen of Death, pt 1

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, nooo I was about to update Saturday but the log-in page didn't work fuuu, and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

_From Nature's chain whatever link you strike,_

_Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike._

-Alexander Pope

**CH08: Blue Screen of Death, part 1.**

"Mels? Mello? Um, something... er, wrong?"

The drivers behind their newly acquired vehicle that was not a shiny new police curser but a random Ford, were honking death, and Matt realized he was already missing the privileges of driving the old car. The single driver who had some real stones to go around their new non-cruiser through the oncoming traffic was already flipping them off and cursing their mothers.

Some short, shallow breaths seemed to calm startled blonde down, but not enough to get Matt to convince him to get foot off the brake pedal; and so they were stopped in the middle of a freeway until Mello would think it a brilliant idea to _maybe, quite possibly,_ move the fuck out of the way.

"The... N is... down," he finally managed, turning his head to stare at Matt with wide, genuinely shocked eyes. "Like, right now."

Matt stared back at him, but his confusion lasted only a moment before a huge grin spread over his face. "We don't really care _why_, right?"

Mello grinned back a toothy grin of his own.

"Totally not."

Just because his entire traffic lane hated him already didn't mean that Mello would suddenly start giving shit about a dozen or so additional people. Stomping the gas pedal until he had just enough speed to slam breaks and perform a very illegal U-turn in the middle of a freeway awarded him the love of the opposite lane as well.

Ignoring the honks of their undying love and redirecting the traffic behind him with his middle finger out of the window, Mello took the first exist off the freeway and came to a near-crash by a Starbucks.

By that time, Matt had already finished rummaging the back seat full of their stuff and fished out a laptop, an external hard drive, and a non-slip-grip special World of Warcraft edition mouse.

He cracked the laptop open and pulled off his leather gloves with his teeth.

"Alrighty," he half-sang while hacking into the Starbucks' Wi-Fi, "what's the plan?"

"Go see what's going on with it," Mello bit his lip. "I'm not going online unless the little white fucker is down for real."

Matt checked his monitoring spyware that he latched onto N a few hours ago. Nine hundred of them were already killed, but the surviving five told him all he needed to know.

"Oohh shit," he whistled, and checked the chatter to see if what he was seeing was true. "Yup. N went and fucked with Japan, you don't just go and fuck with Japan. I've been telling you, man. _Nobody_ just _goes_ and _fucks_ with Japan-"

"Is N down?"

"Oh baby," Matt began bragging, "N is down on his knees, sucking a huge-"

Mello's stare wondered aimlessly around the interior of their car. He licked his top teeth and swallowed before resting his eyes on Matt's stupid-looking mouse.

"Should I...?"

"I dunno," Matt pulled out long cigarette stick and started twirling it between his fingers. "Should you?"

"If the damn fucker uploads again, he's either gonna see everythin' I see every fuckin' time I pass a Wi-Fi so I'mma have no choice but burn my Wi-Fi and then I'll just be fucking stuck forever."

"Mels-"

"No," Mello bit his lip, "you really dunno what it's like. I'm not _supposed_ to be offline. Ever," but Matt could see how tempted the blonde was, so he let the gravitational pull of the delicious Starbucks WiFi run its natural course. Then, in a completely-unrelated-to-the-question-at-hand voice, Mello asked, "how long's he been down for?"

"Four minutes," Matt sang.

Mello licked his teeth again.

"It'll take him twelve to restart."

"So... you got eight."

Mello fidgeted in his seat some more: "can you trace him in eight?"

"If his shit is down, I can trace him in two-o-o."

Mello sucked in a deep breath and held it. He stared at the smoke-stained roof of their car, and Matt watched Mello defeat himself in his own internal debate. Slowly, a small gloved hand came away from a leather-clad lap and gripped into Matt's sleeve.

Matt gave him thumbs-up.

There were no switches to turn on, and Mello didn't pull out a laptop out of nowhere. The miracle that went on in the stuffy cabin of a stolen Ford was nothing but small flash of brilliant glow of cyan in the blonde's black irises. The color flickered for a moment, glimmered for the next, and became solid.

Tense and anxious, Mello blinked.

"Well?" Matt nudged him.

"Nope," the blonde murmured absently, "N's definitely offline."

Not really wanting to distract the coolest bloody thing on earth from doing its thing, Matt withheld an ill-worded comment about how Mello's face was so relaxed and wasted that the blonde looked like he was getting the best head _and_ weed in the world, at the same time.

And Matt supposed the blonde really had the right to feel awesome, because a week ago "depressed" and sulking, Mello had downloaded every database he could possibly get his grabby hands on, and stabbed himself in the back of his neck with Matt's smoking cigarette, burning his G-Network adapter, just because he realized N had downloaded his little spy-cam program onto Mello's G and was basically spying on them for weeks.

So, in his onset of "depression", Mello chose to not have a twenty-four hour internet connection, and had not been online since. To Matt, no internet for a week was as worse than death. To Mello, he supposed, no internet for a week was worse than the thing that was worse than death. Hence, Mello was "depressed" when he destroyed the G-adapter.

Of course Mello's "depression" was a little bit like a small natural disaster, and Matt's curtain ended up catching fire after the blonde shot up Matt's gaming equipment and hurled his ashtray at the said curtain, but that was beside the point.

And right then, with his eyes glowing bright blue-green just like the day Matt had met him, Mello looked finally home.

"Matt," Mello murmured again, and Matt expected the blonde to tell him they were BFFs or something equally cute.

"Yeah?"

"Go track the effing N, would you?"

"Right-o!" Matt pretended that he didn't just totally forget, "tracking N, gotcha. Um, Mels, do you mind not overloading the Starbucks internet?"

The bandwidth allocation changed, and Matt received just enough room to work in. With N's redirector software being down, tracking its location became a matter of sending out a few pings with a modified ICMP recipient.

"Kidna makes you wonder what the fuck can take N down like that though," Matt whistled and lit up a smoke as he waited for his ping to come back. "I couldn't track him, and I like to think I'm pretty awesome."

Mello tapped his lips.

"I got an idea."

"The L."

"Yeah. The L should be active by now. I mean, _we are._ Unless... No, I don't think _he's_ still- Matty, can you see what Japan used to trace N?"

"Um, I could try. I dun' wanna not fuck with Japan though. I keep telling people not to fuck with Japan, you saw what Japan does to whomever fucks with it-"

Mello not-so-playfully punched him in the shoulder.

"Right! Fucking With Japan is my middle name. Uh... Oh, wow, N trashed them, they're pretty much down, too, so I'm cool. Yeah. Here."

Matt pulled up the long list of programs Japan used to track N, really wishing he could download a few. One glance at a particular program that steamrolled through redirectors was all it took to freak the living Jesus out of his blonde friend, and Mello chocked on air and coughed.

"Shit," he whispered, "oh shit shit shit-"

"Who the hell is it?"

Mello told him.

"Oh shit," Matt spat, "shit shit shit! I thought _he_ was-"

"Apparently not! Shit!"

"Yeah, I know right, _shit! _What the shit do we do?"

"Saying 'shit' fifteen more times ought to cover it," Mello bit.

_You so started it you little..!_ Matt chose to hold his tongue.

"Okay, _fine_," he said instead. "But seriously. We were doing stuff under the assumption that wasn't... um..." Matt waved his hands around trying to describe the adjective without insulting Mello.

"Right," Mello shot him a look of reproach, like Matt wasn't cool enough for him or something. "I'll go warn Japan, you, like... take him out. N should've trashed him enough for your ass to finish him off. Can you do that?"

"Uh," so without any plan whatsoever, Matt did the only thing he could think of.

Mello choked on a snort-giggle.

"Did you just blue-screen him?"

"He was running a fucking Internet Explorer from some moron _MatsuMatsu_'s Windows XP. As far as I'm concerned, I did the world a favour!"

At that precise moment, Matt's ping decided to come back with some unfortunate information.

"Uh oh," Matt yelped, "disconnect now, N's online in eight. Seven."

But Mello didn't. Matt punched him, and the blonde snapped at him: "sending, hold on!"

"Four, three, _Mello!_"

Cyan disappeared from the blonde's black eyes. They sat in silence for a few long seconds, and Mello just stared through the windshield, unmoving.

"Did you get out in time?" Matt whispered.

Mello didn't move.

"Yeah," he said finally, and Matt let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Dunno if I sent it though."

**- Alt -**

Just as he had his way with words and a face that everyone seemed to trust, Light had a vast arsenal of excuses at his disposal. A combination of the three had earned him an early work leave, and he marched Ryuzaki out of the NPA building at 4PM in the dot.

"You," Light said when they were finally out the earshot of his father's subordinates.

"Me," Ryuzaki confirmed.

"Are in so much trouble," Light finished, and rubbed his tired eyes with his thumb. "We-"

"We," Ryuzaki confirmed again.

"_You_, stop interrupting me. _We_... are in so much trouble."

Ryuzaki muttered something unintelligible about that generally being Light's problem, but the brunette chose to ignore him and continue his confident march down the street.

"Light-kun."

"Hmm?"

"Light-kun had just missed his car," Ryuzaki pointed to the elevator entrance to the underground parkade Light had just passed. "Is Light-kun sure he is alright?"

"Hmm. A bit tired, that's all," the brunette hummed again and blinked the caffeine dryness from his eyes. The coffee and the adrenaline kept him alert through the dull ringing in his ears, but he swore to himself he will keep himself awake for Ryuzaki.

From what he gathered about the strange man, Ryuzaki wasn't the type to typically follow anyone around. But he chose to stick around the Cybercrimes HQ, and now that he was trailing two feet behind Light and had not wondered off yet was an opportunity Light was not willing to sell for any amount of sleep.

Light beamed at Ryuzaki with a fake, bashful and slightly embarrassed smile, turned to the parkade and walked, allowing Ryuzaki to tag along. But it wasn't tagging along Ryuzaki was doing, not on his own will, anyway. Light's back to the man should have signalled that Ryuzaki was ordered to follow; it was a wordless order, and the beauty of it was that Ryuzaki didn't even know he was being controlled.

Light lured.

Sweetly, subtly.

Ryuzaki followed, but by the time they reached the elevator, Light noticed a deliberate increase of the distance between them.

"Something wrong?" he asked, and three feet behind him, Ryuzaki shifted from foot to foot. Unsure. Uneasy. Oh, Light could see suspicion lurk in the black of the man's eyes. Aware that something was up. Curios, but ready to bolt.

Light read the composed features and the distance between them.

Ryuzaki was leaning towards turning on the spot and running – _running_ away.

Light shot him a lazy look then, the kind that said_ I know you're not going anywhere, stop fooling yourself thinking that you will_, and Ryuzaki was pinned to the spot.

Good.

"Let's go," Light cooed and gestured lazily towards the elevator.

On impulse, the pale man took one step forward. Then, he caught himself.

_Crap_, Light thought. _Damn it, he's going to run._

Ryuzaki pressed his thin lips together and retracted the step he took. He shook his head. "Hmm, no. No."

"Ryuzaki-" Light began coercively, but the man was already backing away. "Ryuzaki, don't."

_He's not going for it. _

Light could try luring him again, that might work. But _this_ was supposed to work, and it didn't. And even if Light somehow decided it was a good idea to chase the odd man across the whole city, he wasn't sure he could catch him; Light didn't dare to lure again.

_Damn it, what else is there? _He cursed under his breath, raised his open palms to his shoulder level and took one step back, declaring unconditional surrender.

After a moment of confusion, Ryuzaki seemed calmer. _Good_.

"Okay?" Light asked, "No funny business. Just don't run, alright?"

Ryuzaki looked him over for a good measure, before nodding.

"I strongly depreciate _that,_" Ryuzaki warned him in dismay, dropping the 'Light-kun.'

"I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Where were you taking me?"

"Home, to get your things -"

"Lies!"

"Alright! To a hotel, it was stupid of me and I'm sorry. Just _stay_."

Outside of the safety net of Light's father in the house, or the entire NPA's Cybercrimes watching them suspiciously, their dynamics were entirely different, Light realized. Ryuzaki wasn't comfortable _alone_ with him.

And it made him gloat as he realized Ryuzaki was afraid of him, if just a little.

Ryuzaki furrowed his invisible eyebrows and backed away more, and it wasn't the hotel that angered him. Light read his face: pasted right across the man's delicate features was the exact same read Light had on him; Ryuzaki could read him just as well, and it appeared he didn't like to be gloated at for his fears.

"Okay, alright," Light offered again, and an unwelcome note of desperation escaped his voice. "I'm sorry. Let's just have coffee. You can have tea and pastries. Public place."

"No."

"I promise I just want to talk to you. I won't touch you, I won't try to... get you to come with me-"

"-with your conniving wickedness!"

"-yes, er, that, no more of that. Tea and pastries. What do you say?"

Ryuzaki glared at him again, and his eyes narrowed into dark black slits.

"Light-kun was much more pleasant this morning, and this-"

"And cake. And sherbet if they have it."

"..."

"Please?"

"...I am not going into Light-kun's car."

Light choked on his spit. "Do you really think I'd actually try to kidnap you?"

"No. However today is _not_ a day I am willing to waste escaping Light-kun's petty attempts at trying to bed me, should he try them."

"What's so special about today?"

A blank stare was his answer.

"How about a cab?"

In the end, they ended up walking a few blocks down the street to a bakery Light _claimed_ he 'visited regularly' whenever he had to buy sweet pastries.

Which was never.

But Ryuzaki didn't need to know that.

Ryuzaki slouched and dragged his feet, but they were on the same level now, shoulder to shoulder, and whenever they passed strangers who would give Ryuzaki odd looks, Light possessively reminded himself that it was _his_ shirt Ryuzaki was wearing.

"Light-kun has missed the bakery," he heard from some distance behind him.

Light blinked heavily, sighed, and willed the sleepiness away.

"I wasn't paying attention," Light excused himself. "You'll like their pastries. They're really good."

"Really, Light-kun?"

Ryuzaki chose the corner seat at the corner table – the paranoid seat of the cafe, Light chuckled under his breath – where he could see everyone and no one could see him. Light sat a polite distance across from him.

"Ah!" called one of the plain waitresses and rushed to them as soon as she spotted Ryuzaki. Light had a line ready to excuse his friend's appearance, subtly explaining that Ryuzaki wasn't homeless, and Light was paying for him anyway. Instead, she smiled at Ryuzaki with an air of familiarity.

"Hello sir!" she told the oddly-seated man, "you'll have the usual?"

"Yes, thank you, Aya-san," Ryuzaki told her in polite monotone. "Light-kun, this is Aya-san, she works as a waitress in this fine establishment," Ryuzaki made sure to punctuate his next words, "Every. Day. Aya-san, may I ask you if you have _ever_," Ryuzaki pointed to Light with an accusatory packet of sugar, "seen this man here before?"

Confused, the girl looked at Light and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I haven't."

Light felt a spasm in his eyebrow.

"So I'm a liar," Light shot Ryuzaki a firm smile before turning to the girl, "I'll have a coffee. Black. Thanks."

The girl apologized and hurried away.

"You know, for someone who pretty much held my interest hostage for _months_, you're incredibly annoying," Light said in good humour.

"In my defence, I have never expected to become the target of Light-kun's sexual frustrations."

"I'm not sexually frustrated," Light denied, and realized how lame he sounded only once it was too late to take it back.

"Hmm," Ryuzaki hummed, picking up on it. "Light-kun is definitely not alright. Perhaps we should cut this date short and Light-kun should go to sleep?"

_A date! _

"I'm fine, a few hours won't make any difference, I've only been up for nineteen hours-"

"Thirty-three," Ryuzaki corrected him.

"Right, thirty-three- wait no, you woke me up and started freak out and lose memory!"

"Ah, I see," Ryuzaki accepted three plates of various pastries with bright icing with a glee and waited for the girl to go away. "It is quite an amazing skill, if I may compliment Light-kun."

Light grinned smugly behind his coffee mug. "Whatever for?"

"It is quite skilful to have sex with Teru Mikami while being asleep."

Light forced himself to swallow his coffee instead of spitting it.

"...thirty-three hours it is," he admitted tactfully without an explanation.

"Mhmm," the man said, approvingly.

Light eyed his conversation partner. With surprising grace, Ryuzaki divided his food into bite-size portions using all the appropriate cutlery. The way he held it was an altogether different matter. Fork and knife pinched between his forefinger and thumb, Light wondered what indigenous tribe Ryuzaki had been born to.

"Thirty-three hours without sleep seem to have strong effect on Light-kun's person."

"How's so?"

"The look Light-kun is giving me is highly suspicious."

"Ah," Light refused to back down and look away, "that explains why you stare so much. It's not like you've been sleeping at all to have any right to pester me."

"I have, in fact, slept."

"When?"

"Twenty hours ago."

"You slept twenty hours ago," Light watched Ryuzaki closely. "And why don't I believe that?"

"I slept twenty hours ago," Ryuzaki insisted, and with an air of a habitual liar about him, he decided to provide some additional evidence to prove that this was an exception to his habit. "I... fainted, actually."

"After how long?" Light decided to believe him.

"I do not understand the question."

"How long were awake for before you fainted twenty hours ago?"

Ryuzaki searched the cafe's ceiling for an answer.

"Sixty-eight hours."

Light did choke on his coffee this time. Politely, he dabbed his lips with a napkin before setting it down and confronting Ryuzaki with a very serious look.

"Are you doing drugs?"

Outraged in a very comical way, Ryuzaki said, "no, Light-kun."

Light waited for an elaboration, but when none came, he felt somewhat cheated. "Ryuzaki. When you tell someone you've been awake for sixty-eight hours like everyone else should practice it too, you don't just say 'no' and offer no explanation as to what the _hell_ is wrong with you."

Ryuzaki seemed to be unaware of such a social convention. But, Light realized, this was a somewhat learning experience for both of them, and Ryuzaki was willing to correct himself.

"Sleep is a disease," he finally offered.

"How's sleep a disease?"

"Various ways," he pushed an empty tart plate aside and began to work a hefty slice of pie into perfect triangles, "it devours valuable time, the time that otherwise could be used productively. Sleep is very much like a disability. A cancer."

Light wasn't sure what to say. "Wow."

"Yes, Light-kun. In a similar way," Ryuzaki impaled a slice of a cherry pie with the silver needles of his fork, lifted it in the air and showcased it to Light, "food is an addiction."

"_Food_ is an addiction?"

"Yes, Light-kun," the man confirmed again and ate his pie.

The silence that followed was filled with stray thoughts, and Light would have loved to know what Ryuzaki was thinking if his own thoughts alone weren't pleasantly soothing. Odd philosophies gave Light a peak into Ryuzaki's person, and although Light was absolutely fascinated with Ryuzaki's sparkling insanity, he knew almost certainly that Ryuzaki himself felt out of place with it.

Absent-minded glances and an ability to remove himself from the world altogether were symptoms of a deprived character. Deprived, Light chose the simplest explanation, deprived of human contact. Were computers Ryuzaki's only love?

Was sleepless expression of his genius his only muse, and were the AIs he created his only children? No, Ryuzaki wasn't the type to be interested in legacy and fame, otherwise he would have orchestrated the internet to his liking much like Light and Matt had done.

If sacrificing sleep and food were not in fact acts of sacrifice, Light wondered what else they could be. If they were acts of something else entirely, then Ryuzaki had not created the unholy powers of L, M and M just to prove that he could.

He had created them for some sort of insane self-improvement.

Light decided it was best to ground Ryuzaki before the odd man's mind wondered off into the realm of complete insanity.

"Sleeping and eating are things you need to survive as a human being. There's no way around it."

"Yes," Ryuzaki came back to Earth with Light. "However, Gods have no need for such things."

Was Ryuzaki jabbing at Light's status as a god? Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach, and it took him a great effort to hold in a nasty retort that may have tempted Ryuzaki into leaving again.

He ended up leaning into Ryuzaki's personal space and lowering his voice to whisper: "I am a god because of my superior morality. Not because I don't need to _sleep_ or _eat_."

Ryuzaki remained unaffected.

"It was not Light-kun's godly status I was questioning, but my own."

Light felt a tremor go through his clenched fists and they relaxed just when he realized he was squeezing the edges of the table.

Questioning Ryuzaki's convictions put him at much more ease than when he felt he had to justify his own.

"Oh," Light sat back down easily, "then what kind of God do you want to be?"

There was another pause that Light didn't cause.

It was like static for the moment it lasted, and when it was over, the corners of the thin lips twitched in satisfaction and Light watched the Ryuzaki's black pupils focus on him.

Sudden interest, it almost saturated the air around the odd man. Light could see it - Ryuzaki wasn't expecting Light to ask that kind of question, in fact, he knew that Ryuzaki expected nothing of interest to come from him at all. And the fact that Light managed to disprove him time after time, one obscure question after another, all in quick succession, would eventually corner Ryuzaki to a realization that he was entrapped by Light.

Light knew this game as well as he knew how to breathe. But he wasn't really playing it because he wasn't interested in the man's long-term affection at all. But perhaps on pure intuition, Light managed to hit all the right questions, always, and he could see that Ryuzaki never expected anyone to understand him.

The answer the man gave him then was well thought-out a long time before Light even considered asking anything of sorts.

"An omnipotent god, Light-kun."

_All-powerful, _Light thought. A mark of One True God.

"Oh? How did you lose omniscient, omnipresent and omnibenevolent?" he asked jokingly, and the lightness of his own question did nothing to prepare him for Ryuzaki's response.

Almost slamming his tea down on the table and spilling its slushy contents all over the tablecloth, the man rid himself of all that kept his hands busy, allowed his open palms slide down the tableware and stared at Light with pure objection.

Somewhat startled, Light withdrew into his chair.

"What do _you_ know," Ryuzaki finally asked himself, voicing his thoughts exactly. "But _you_ cannot possibly know. You _guessed_. Did you _guess_?"

"What?"

With reluctance to share the information, Ryuzaki finally lifted up a hand with four bony fingers high in the air.

"Four."

"Four what?"

"Four omnis represent a true God. Nothing human-made can be a true God by definition," he removed one finger, leaving only three. "Three individual omnis represent a human-made god." He lowered his voice into a low hum and allowed some pride to escape as he droned, "I think… yes, I think I rather want to tell you that I have them." This left him with two fingers. "Two of them, omniscient and omnipresent, are what I am _not_. If my L is omnipotent, Light-kun can guess what the other two omnis attribute to."

All-knowing and all-seeing artificial intelligences. Light wondered the extent of the claim.

And then there was almost a note of regret when Ryuzaki tucked one more finger away with his thumb, and one lonely index finger was pointing in the man's own general direction. "One. Because there cannot be two of the same thing."

Of only Light knew what Ryuzaki had meant then.

If only he knew to smack sense into him.

If only he knew to not let the _stupid_ man out of his sight.

But he didn't, because Mello's complete message never made it through Ryuzaki's Blue Screen of Death.

"Light-kun's staring at my person is rather disturbing. Perhaps he would like some sugar in his coffee and is too reserved to ask for it?"

Light shrugged.

"The computer told me to not let you out of my sight. So, I'm not."

"Ah. Light-kun is taking that... 'message' rather too literally."

"Well, it said you were going to "KI-" I assume "kill" someone, as you yourself told me you would. Whom will you kill?"

When instead of answering, Ryuzaki comically reached for his hair, pulled it, and tried to physically shut out a certain thought, Light didn't know what was bothering the odd man.

So when Ryuzaki told him he really wanted to stay and talk more, but he really – _really_ – had to do something before he managed to frighten himself out of it, Light didn't think much of it.

And so when Ryuzaki hastily told him, "I want to say good-bye to Light-kun, but I really should not, because this is in no way good-bye and I will definitely love to see Light-kun again," Light didn't understand what kind of good-bye the man had in mind.

What Light _did_ pay full attention to before Ryuzaki ran out of the café was the sweet smack Ryuzaki planted on Light's lips with his own.

The taste of tea wasn't flat because Ryuzaki smelled like cherries and cinnamon, and the kiss wasn't quick because Ryuzaki's lips lingered

Ryuzaki stole a kiss from Light, and ran away with Light's feelings.

**- Alt –**

For some reason, Light didn't follow him. It wasn't because his phone suddenly rang and the waitress demanded Light settled the bill before leaving, it was just that... he felt that instead of satisfying his own needs for Ryuzaki's company, he should let the man have his way and leave if that was what Ryuzaki really needed.

And, Light realized, he didn't as much care whom Ryuzaki was going to kill as it didn't matter anymore if Ryuzaki did or did not kill anyone at all.

He put off thinking about what the hell just came over him, and looked at the caller ID of the persistent caller that insisted on interrupting Light's rather sentimental train of thought.

A pay-phone. A cybercrimes tip? Light picked it up.

"Light?" The voice on the other end gasped hopefully, and Light grunted inwardly and promised himself to never again pick up when he didn't recognize the number. This was just the poorest timing Teru Mikami could possibly choose to call Light. From a pay-phone?

Light suppressed a snarl when he remembered just what was in his pocket. He fished for Teru Mikami's phone and waved the plain waitress to bring him a soda, the sweeter the better.

"...oh thank God, Light... er, Light-san. Do you happen to have my...?"

"No, Teru. I don't have your cell phone," said Light as he used a straw to inject soda into Teru Mikami's cell phone he said he didn't have. "Yes, I checked the pockets in my pants. I don't have it. No Teru, I _definitely_ don't want to meet up for dinner so you can check my pants yourself."

After a little while, Teru Mikami had no alternative to begging for his phone back, and Light had planned to spontaneously "find" it and give it to Teru only to have the phone die in the morning. Hence, the surgery he was performing with the soda. A well-deserved punishment; he figured he really let Teru Mikami off too easily as the only kind of punishment Light usually dealt out was death.

"Okay, Light, I don't really-"

"Light-_san_, Teru," Light corrected him in a half-song just to make Teru Mikani feel as worthless as possible as he continued his merry quest to murder the phone in question.

"Alright, Light-san. I am very sorry, but I put the phone in your pocket-"

"Confessing, are you now," Light sang half-heartedly again.

"Yes, I... I should not have done that, but I was really worried that I will never see you again and I just- I really need that phone back, and I know you have it, so please-"

"Didn't you think of that before?"

"No," the man whined on, "my mind is always thinking about you, and I can't think ahead because you are the most wonderful man I have ever been with-"

"Ugh," Light allowed himself to drop his composure and make a face, "just, don't do that, Teru. Just... don't. Fine, I have your phone," he said, adding the final drop of carbonated and sugary, sour and wire-corrupting soda to the phone's battery terminal before closing it up. "No, I don't want you to come anywhere near my work. This is not a public relationship, I already explained that. I'm at the bakery down from the Cybercrimes HQ. You know where that is?"

Teru thanked him, promised to thank him in some very creative ways sometime later, and hung up.

Light stared at the phone.

What to do now...

He didn't care enough about Teru Mikami or his life to go through his phone, and he almost didn't.

But he did.

He read Teru's new messages, and when Teru took forever to show up, he read Teru's old messages.

And after 10 minutes of waiting and Teru Mikami not showing up (as the man did not own a jet he could just fly across the city), Light decided to check Teru's really, really old messages.

The oldest one dated three weeks back as that was the most the phone's memory could store.

Three weeks ago on the dot, the day Light met Teru Mikami for the first time, at 2AM, just as Light was leaving for a bar, Teru Mikami received a text message.

Light opened Teru Mikami's oldest text message.

It instructed a time, the precise time Teru Mikami had rudely introduced himself to Light.

It instructed a place, the address of the bar Teru Mikami had met Light at.

It described a Japanese brunette, which were two things that Light was, and it described the clothes, the exact clothes Light wore on that particular bar outing.

For at least five seconds, sleepy and dumbfounded, Light didn't understand.

And when he understood, it became clear as day that Teru Mikami had received precise inscriptions to meet Light at the bar three weeks ago, and in the wake of one of the most exhausting thirty-five hours he had ever had, the idea of someone telling Teru Mikami to spy on him was absurd, until he understood that for once, he wasn't simply being paranoid.

This text really was what it appeared to be.

Why? Who?

Distressed, Light accidentally sipped the dreadful soda he bought only to spoil Teru's phone, spat it out into a napkin and checked for any pervious messages.

There were none.

But the phone number – the phone number the text was sent from – it was familiar. It was 798-9254.

For some reason, Light remembered that number.

He knew his stalker.

Was it a T9 word?

The T9 dictionary on his own phone gave him Swu Waki, rendering the T9 word database useless.

Then, Light wondered if it would have taken Ryuzaki more than five seconds to figure out who sent the text, sleep or no sleep, computers or no computers.

And then it hit him.

It hit him hard.

798-9254.

7 was R.

9 was Y.

8 was U.

9 was Z.

2 was A.

Light didn't bother checking the last two numbers and their corresponding letters. He jumped out of his seat and ran out of the bakery, but of course he was twenty minutes too late, and of course Ryuzaki was already gone.

**- Alt -**

_**Dear pretentious, scheming bastard-**_

Light considered the future in which he might feel keener to the pretentious, scheming bastard, and calculated that Ryuzaki's response to being called such would be unfavourable for Light's plans to eventually bed the pretentious, scheming bastard in question.

So, he back-spaced his letter.

_**Dear Ryuzaki-**_

No, 'dear' was exactly the opposite of Light's feelings toward the man at that precise moment. "Ryuzaki" also hardly seemed appropriate. So he wrote,

_**You. **_

_**You will call me right now and explain to me why you set me up with that pathetic, sleazy—**_Light back-spaced some more,_**Teru Mikami.**_

_**You will also tell me why you set it up so that I would find out that it was you. **_

_**Now. **_

But instead of being there to check his e-mail, or his IM messenger, or one of his four phones, L wasn't at a large, empty room with the tea, the sweets, the chocolate, the puzzle, the toy gun, the computer, the carpet or the _walls_ anymore.

L wasn't in that room, but he knew for a fact that the room was the last place he remembered before-

Before what? He knew that the last thing he remembered was that he was about to kill someone, and he also knew that he would not remember whom or why or how, or if he had done it at all, and so _that_ particular concern wasn't his priority. He simply didn't remember, and that was the way it was supposed to be.

L was however very concerned with something that was awfully wrong.

He couldn't quite wrap his head around what it was.

But it was wrong, just _wrong;_ it felt like L's puzzle was supposed to have ten thousand pieces, and one of the pieces was missing. Without that ten-thousandth of a whole, the whole chain of events was broken, and L didn't know what to do about it because he didn't have the memory to figure it out.

And so, for the forty hours that followed his sudden awakening, L waited patiently for his memories to return, as they normally did, and with the gaps filled, he hoped he could understand the nature of the problem – whatever the problem was.

This time however, no matter how long he waited, his memory did not come back, and the more he sat alone in the darkness and deafness of the void, the more he realized that this time, his memories would not spontaneously pop into his mind like they always did.

How did he know this? It wasn't a concern. But he was confused, and although he felt everywhere at once, he felt strangely alone with himself and his unknown problem; finally, forty-two hours after waking up with the strangest feeling he had ever felt, L began considering whom he should contact for help.

As his list of emergency contacts became populated, only one name stood out.

Light Yagami.

So L finally logged into his e-mail only to get bombarded with dozens of angry messages from Light asking about the purpose of Teru Mikami.

L found himself unable to answer any of Light's questions, and instead focused on what he should instead ask of Light, but found himself unable to put his problem into words or supply Light with any information about his own "plan" – the plan that had to do with puzzles and who knew what else. Not because he did not want to, but because again, he did not know.

L found it strange that he did not know his own plan, but that particular concern wasn't his priority either, and the fact that this, as something seemingly important, wasn't a concern, was within itself a concern, and L didn't know what to do about it other than ask Light who may or may not even believe him.

But, that was not the reason L didn't feel too enthusiastic about contacting Light Yagami.

In all truth, he was avoiding the man.

He sent an e-mail equivalent of a cry for help, but it wasn't as if he had any choice in the matter.

L knew that he liked Light Yagami.

It was just something that he knew.

And L's concern, that wasn't a concern at that particular moment, was that very suddenly without any reason behind it, L found that he did not like Light Yagami at all, nor did he find his tennis discussions entertaining, nor his pretentious attitude tolerable, nor his Kira persona as belonging to someone worthy of living.

* * *

A/N: I have things to say here, but I think you would prefer an update instead of waiting some more just so that I can say stuff here and delay le update even more. Just... yeah. I didn't have cool 3 months. Just... yeah, no.

So.

What the eff just happened?

Theories or guesses?

PS: there are 31 chapters in this story. So don't think I'm about to end it anywhere near here.

**CH09: Blue Screen of Death, part 2.**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	9. Blue Screen of Death, pt 2

**A/N:** Hello, my name is still King, AMG I PASSED MODERN WORLD HISTORY, I PASSED I PASSED YESSS, and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

_And it hit me like never before_

_That love is a powerful force._

-The Cardigans

**CH09: Blue Screen of Death, Part 2. **

"I don't believe you."

Ryuzaki, who by then had dropped the voice scrambler and had gone as far as enabling a webcam feed, calmly drank tea in High Definition and argued that Light should really believe him if he ever wanted to use the Death Note again.

"Come on, Ryuzaki. I'm willing to forgive the whole thing about Teru Mikami since we had the best day," Light pronounced 'day' as close to 'date' as he could get away with without missing a beat to appeal of Ryuzaki's sentimental side. Of course Ryuzaki's sentimental side rather resembled a rock, but Light supposed that a rock covered with some mud and hopefully moss was close enough to something that could feel all warm and fuzzy inside when it came to the man in question. So Light said 'day' that sounded like 'date' and Ryuzaki cringed in a very warm and fuzzy manner. "...ever," he went on. "I can understand you made some mistakes early in our relationship, and it's okay, I don't mind, as long and you. Tell. Me. What. You. Did."

"I'm afraid I really do not recall, Light-kun."

"Ryuzaki!"

"There is nothing I can do, Light-kun."

"I thought I was getting through to you!"

"You are, Light-kun. And I promise Light-kun that I would have told him why I employed Teru Mikami to stalk Light-kun if I could remember the reason. Unfortunately, I do not."

Light glared daggers into his own monitor.

"So we aren't really getting anywhere."

"I assure Light-kun, we _are_."

"How, exactly?"

"I am having conversations with Light-kun, am I not?"

"Hello square one, we meet again," Light moaned in utter despair.

Ryuzaki shuffled around in his chair uncomfortably, apparently disdained to be glared daggers at, and as he sipped his tea, he caught Light's glare with his own, mumbled something, and looked away.

"What was that?"

"...I am sorry."

"Well, you would have nothing to be sorry for if you would just drop it and tell-"

The man squinted his black eyes into narrow liquid-black slits, and his disdain became penetrating as he glared back not at Light, but at a random object to his left, just out of Light's camera range.

"Why won't Light-kun drop this line of inquiry?"

"Because, maybe, not to you, but to _me_, it's important to know why there are people spying on m-"

"I am in trouble."

There. Ryuzaki finally spat it out, and spelled it out for Light who was for some reason incapable or unwilling to understand anything. At least that's what Ryuzaki thought.

What Light thought Ryuzaki thought was something along the lines of 'I need more favours from you because you are very useful and I won't give you any answers because I don't feel like it."

So Light being Light and finding no personal gain in it, turned Ryuzaki away, and Ryuzaki left the video chat and even went as far as removing himself from all of Light's contacts and unfriending Light on Facebook.

It took the brunette an hour to realize that Ryuzaki was _actually_ in some kind of trouble and _actually_ turned to Light for help, and Light felt rather terrible.

So he apologized.

And when Ryuzaki returned to video chat with his feathers ruffled so much that he looked like something had metaphorically stomped all over his metaphorical pride, Light apologized again like he meant it; in their arguments, Light often forgot that the man he was dealing with created three servers of infinite capacity just to store his own ego. When Ryuzaki asked for something, he had no other options but to ask, because when he asked, his face looked like he had chugged a gallon of cold syrup.

So Light patiently listened to the man's problem with his politest poker face on.

"So the fact that you don't remember anything and the fact that you don't know how you got where you are don't bother you."

"That is correct."

"And what bothers you has to do with someone... not watching you."

"Yes."

"As in, doing the opposite of spying on you. And you find this to be unnatural."

"Yes."

Light bit the inside of his lip and decided to confront the issue early and in the gentlest manner possible. He pretended to do his online banking from a second laptop. His banking rather consisted of casually entering symptoms into the Google.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but are you by any chance back on medication?"

"Light-kun thinks he is funny."

"...so that's a 'no'."

"I will leave Light-kun's chat again," the man threatened.

Light sighed and smiled a defeated grin. "Alright," he closed his laptop, "you know what, it doesn't even matter what you have. I'll figure it out and I'll take care of," he almost said 'you' but caught himself. "It," he finished. "Just tell me where you are and I'll come and get you."

Ryuzaki looked to his right this time, and stared into nothingness. He looked like he was sulking. "I do not know where I am, I told Light-kun this already."

"Alright. Do you want to go outside and loo-"

"No."

"Alright, it's fine, just stay where you are."

"I am where I am."

"Well," Light said carefully, "I'll keep you company."

"Until the moving truck arrives," Ryuzaki corrected him and looked as betrayed as ever to be chosen second to a moving truck. Light grinned again, despite the scowl he was really feeling like when he remembered the real reason he was moving out.

"Can't have Teru Mikami serenading 'Bad Romance' under my balcony again. I don't think the "drunk guy from Accounting lost a bet" excuse is not going to fly by my father the second time around."

Ryuzaki smacked his lips in amusement.

"Light-kun should not be cross with me when I say I hope I was the one who solicited him to do this."

They argued lightly until Ryuzaki accused Light of keeping boring company and Light suggested chess.

"When you feel better – no rush or anything, but I'd like to properly take you out for coffee. Or tea. Whichever."

The pause the man took told Light that Ryuzaki wasn't sure what he should answer to that.

"I suppose that would be alright," he finally said, not completely agreeing with his own answer.

Light smiled and Ryuzaki returned the smile with an awkward upturned C.

For once, everything was finally calm.

The Police were no-longer looking at Light as a Kira suspect, Halle Linter and her entourage seemed to have backed off, the L AI was under control and Ryuzaki was somewhat friendly, birds where chirping and criminals were being judged.

All that was left was the N file that was hacking into people's webcams. Light should really take care of that, and then everything would be perfect.

Even Ryuzaki brought him some favourable news about Light's last problem: "I am unsure what I mean when I say this, but I am aware of someone who is currently trying to get the situation under control; they also happen to be much closer to N location-wise."

**- Alt -**

"Hey man, at least we're in the right country," said Matt encouragingly, but what served him as a reply was a very low and very annoyed grunt from his blonde companion who was currently enduring the task of driving across not one, not two, not five, but thirteen States of America.

"Well, we are...!"

A grunt.

"But-"

Another grunt.

"Well, it's not that far, right?" said Matt who came from a country thirty-eight times smaller than the United States and did not have the imagination to envision what a road trip from LA to New York looked like in practice.

Mello didn't grunt this time, instead he shot the redhead a pointed glare, so Matt said what he thought was the right thing.

"Hey, at least it's not my fault my first tracker put Near in LA, right...?"

Mello stomped on the brake pedal, took advantage of Matt's refusal to wear a seatbelt, and kicked the redhead out of the car.

Then, he sped up to ten miles per hour and made Matt run after him.

For ten miles.

**- Alt -**

Light wasn't sure what was going on downstairs, but from the "ooh's" and "aah's" and "wow no way's" and "oh my god can I get your autograph, I'm like your biggest fan," Light figured it was either Edward or the local Conservative Party candidate that decided to drop by his house in the early evening of his last day at home.

It turned out to be neither.

A five-foot nothing half-naked girl in some black lacy frills and bleached pigtails was signing his sister's breasts and his sister was assuring the girl that she would get that tattooed.

Light felt that if he didn't intervene, his mother would follow his sister's example.

"Oh, hello there?" he greeted politely, and as soon as the blonde turned enough for Light to see her face, he recognized her from his sister's DVD collection.

The girl immediately stopped signing various body parts and turned her full attention to Light.

Then she smiled a plastic smile.

"Can I help y-"

"Oh my gosh, Light-kun, my bestest friend ever, how do you do?" the plucky blonde girl interrupted him mechanically, and Light unsuccessfully tried to put 'actress' and 'Misa Amane' in the same mental sentence.

"Uh," said Light.

"Right! Well, I see you are ready for the... um, the ball," the girl managed with brave, unfaltering enthusiasm again as she looked over Light's dark-gray house sweatpants and a button-up shirt, "I think we better go!"

She stuffed Light into his shoes, threw his jacket over him, and shoved him out of the door.

Light allowed himself to be dragged out of the front yard before reversing the blonde's grip on his wrist and yanking her to a stop. Because she was so short and small, she ended up losing her balance and Light had to catch her, steady her, and apologize, before demanding an explanation.

He started with "who are you?"

"Hoo," the plucky blonde gasped comically, "you don't know Misa Misa? From Misa Misa Heart Love Star Show, by Misa Misa? No? From "Love Street" the movie? No?"

Light allowed his eyebrow to jerk and signal his lack of amusement; however the ever-enthusiastic Misa Amane chose to interpret it differently. "Oh you're kidding! That's funny! Anyway, I'm Misa Amane, we never actually met before. You're Light Yagami, right? I have to make sure I grabbed the right person, umm... answer this secret question! What was in the Yotsuba servers?"

What?

Light had to swallow his snort-laugh. Whatever Misa Amane wanted, and whatever she wanted it for, she would have to try a lot harder than that.

"That's classified," Light wallowed with a straight face.

The girl opened her cell phone, went through her text messages, and Light politely waited for her to finish doing that, and decided that if she wanted to do some laundry while she was at it, he would patiently wait for her to finish that as well.

"That..." she read something, "that is correct!"

"What?" said Light.

"You pass!" she sang.

Well, this was incredibly stupid. He shrugged the stupid germs off himself before they became contagious.

"What do you want, Amane-san?"

"Oh! Sorry, I'm being totally rude, aren't I? I'm very bad at this whole being a spy thing. I can act really well with a script and audio cues, but I'm not very good on my own. I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry!" she whined and winked at him. "I'm here to help you spy on Yotsuba!"

Light blinked.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you need to... um," the blonde went through her text messages again and read to Light "you need to figure out what LMN are."

"I'm a police officer, Amane-san, I know what they are already."

"No you don't."

"I'm pretty sure I do."

"No you don't," she sang again.

"And how would you know that I don't know?"

"Because I'm a spy!"

_Ah. _Well, that explained a few things.

"And who told you that you are a spy?" Light wondered if this had anything to do with last year's space alien mind control Misa Amane claimed to be under when she failed to turn up for National Music Awards.

Cryptically and mysteriously, Misa Amane tip-toed to Light's ear and whispered the most ridiculous thing yet.

"Kira did. You know, Kira, the God?"

"A-hah," Light nodded just as cryptically and considered turning on his heels and going back home.

"You don't believe me," said Misa in comical despair.

"Not at all," said Light.

"He told me you might say that."

"Did he, now."

"Yup. So he told me to show you this," and with that, Misa Amane fished a black flip-phone from her pocket, and it were not the mismatched charms that Light recognized the phone by, even though he later realized this was one of the four phones Ryuzaki found in his own pocket a few days ago. What he recognized the phone's purpose by was a small sign printed on transparent sticker paper and pasted right under its clock display.

Misa Amane's cell phone read "Death Note."

And just like that, Kira realized he made his first ally.

"Believe me yet?" she said, balancing herself on the toe platforms of her incredibly high shoes, "awesome!" she said, grabbed Light by the wrist again and dragged him off to a dark alley where she parked her inconspicuous pink SmartCar spy-mobile. "Get in, there's something you need to see."

"What is it?"

Whatever it was, Misa Amane, in her lacy red bolero, a frilly black skirt with some skull pins and lace on it, and white leather thigh-high boots, was definitely not dressed for it.

But as they pulled into a Yotsuba Building underground parking and passed some girls Light vaguely recognized from the posters all over his sister's room, all dressed, or rather undressed, in outfits similar to Misa's, he realized the girls were there as distractions, and Light himself was supposed to break in.

"Amane-san, thank you very much for your effort, but I'm not doing this."

"Oh, it's really easy!" she encouraged, "you just look at those printed instructions and pictures, and just follow them. There's also a hot soldering thingie and a cell phone, I think it's for breaking through keypads. You really have to do it today, like, now."

"So Kira told you to get me to break into Yotsuba, he also gave you that cell phone and instructions?"

"Yup, pretty much!"

Ah, so this was what Ryuzaki wanted him to do.

"Do you even know what that cell phone does, Misa-san?"

"Judges criminals. It's pretty cool."

Light sighed.

"And why can't I do this later?"

Misa served Light with one final envelope, blew him a kiss, and pranced off into a crowd of other models.

Light sighed and opened the package, and two things fell to his lap: a folded letter and another, business card-sized envelope with an Old English L printed on it.

The ego that man had.

Light read the letter first. Typed up in a plain sans-serif font, it read:

_**Dear Light-kun, **_

_**this is the final favour I will ask of you. **_

_**This scam has been set up two weeks prior to our latest face-to-face meeting, and I must confess I have since revised this letter from its original format to better fit our current relationship. **_

_**I must admit to an odd fascination I have with you; the feelings I have for you are enough to entrust you with this task without the explanation I have originally planned to outline within this letter. If by the end of tonight you do not completely understand what you have seen, I hope to explain it to you in person – you may have noticed my sudden memory gap, and I assure you it is there to cushion the impact of today's events on my own mentality. You exist to tell me.**_

_**I understand that my reasoning may sound ridiculous to your healthy mind, however I trust you to follow through with whatever I ask – I trust you will not back out because you share similar trust in me, and I trust you will do as I ask and not betray my trust as you trust me to keep your own Kira secret. **_

_**You will soon understand the immense weight of the trust I have placed in you, as this was not my original plan, and I hope you can understand what my trust in you means to me as I cannot replace my feelings with words. **_

_**Thank you, Light-kun. **_

_**I feel I should sign this letter with my real name.**_

_**- L Lawliet.**_

_**May 11th**_

The letter was three days old, and May 11th was the day Light had last seen Ryuzaki in the bakery by the NPA.

So he did get through to the man. It was sweet, and Light felt a sudden will to do whatever Ryuzaki wanted him to do just to get more of those feelings the man "could not replace with words."

And the thing Light was supposed to do had less to do with the spy impression it left of Misa and more to do with walking through corridors of already disabled cameras and hot-wiring into some locked doors to get to a...

_**Step 59 (if outcome of Step 35 follows the path B):**_ (and Light really had to give Ryuzaki credit for thinking of just about every possible complication) _**insert earplugs into ears and**_ _**enter the monitor bunker; do not feel overwhelmed by noise or height. Proceed to the dial panel on your left, open the small envelope labelled "L" and follow the 4 final instructions. **_

So Light put on leather gloves and a hat Misa had left for him, timed himself, and just like Ryuzaki had promised, the cameras had turned off as Light walked past them.

The first few doors were simple enough to get through as he already knew the codes.

The night security patrol times were listed for Light, and so were the security guards' bathroom habits.

But the deeper Light ventured into the Yotsuba tower, the more sterile the white interior became, and a few steel doors with signs that read "NO AUTORIZED PERSONNEL PAST THIS POINT. CLEARANCE LEVEL REQUIRED: 7" and then "8" and by the time Light reached an elevator that required level 9 clearance, Light found himself unable to hack into it by hotwiring the dial-pad into his own phone.

So he tried the one Ryuzaki provided him with.

The dial-pad blinked green and told Light: "Welcome, Near."

"Who's Near?" Light asked it, but it only could open the doors and take Light up. According to the blue-print he had in his hand, he was being taken up to the middle of a hollow ten-floor high space labelled 'N' in the very center of the Yotsuba tower by a private unconnected elevator.

In his meetings with Yotsuba, the room had been described to Light as "classified," "confidential," and "beyond NPA's clearance level," and Light described it as "overkill."

Level 10 clearance door was a simple door with as much security as a simple doorknob could provide.

Just like the blue-print, it was labelled "N."

So here it was.

Light's last problem. The N.

Ryuzaki had sent him there to destroy the N.

Through intoxicating jitters of excitement, Light envisioned his perfect world coming together with no one in his way and Ryuzaki on his side.

The door labelled 'N.'

Expecting to be underwhelmed, Light reached of the doorknob and immediately became familiar with the door's sound-proof quality.

The noise.

So loud and so much of it, as clear as if they were speaking all around them, voices, hundreds of thousands of vices, speaking, shouting, moaning, saying hundreds of words in hundreds of languages. .

Light could barely make out his own thoughts from the jumble of voices, and as soon as his thoughts became his own, he fished out lame orange earplugs ever-so-kingly provided my Misa Amane and the voices didn't die out, just faded into background noise.

_Note to self: if Ryuzaki wants me to wear earplugs, wear earplugs._

He found himself on a carpeted metal bridge that took him across an oval room. Five floors down and five floors up, thousands and thousands of twelve by nine-inch monitors lined the walls, and each of them had a face in it.

A webcam face, Light realized.

These were live webcam feeds.

This clearly was not the N, and building this made no logical sense; it wasn't like someone could monitor a hundred thousand monitors at once.

Light would figure it out later. Hastily, taking note of the time that was running out for him, he walked to the left and found a nine-monitor panel with a touch-screen dial-pad and eight monitors that read "no feed selected."

Light savoured a breath in anticipation.

It had to be good.

What would he see? Some president of some powerful country having webcam sex? The thieves of LMN conversing? A live feed of a the location of the N?

With shaky fingers and biting down a grin, Light opened his small business card-sized envelope.

In handwritten script so perfect it took Light a moment to realize that this wasn't a printed font but beautiful handwriting, Light found his own name.

_**For Light Yagami. **_

Somehow, a handwritten message from a man who dedicated his life to a keyboard felt very sentimental.

And then it hit him.

Love hit him.

He realized that as soon as he got this over with, he would dump Teru Mikami and stop going to bars and sleeping with strangers and luring people in with his charms because his fascination with Ryuzaki turned into something so sentimental that he recognized it for what it was immediately.

A pleasant feeling.

Love.

_**Step 1. Type in the following feed screen ID: 930012050. The password is: L Lawliet. **_

The grin on Light's face froze just like every muscle in his body froze as his heart heart stopped pumping blood and started pumping what felt ice water.

Oh.

_Oh. _

_Oh God. _

What Light saw on that monitor made him sick to his stomach.

So sick that he had to put a hand over his mouth and screw his eyes shut.

No.

_No. _

Why?

He should have listened, why didn't he listen?

_Why?_

_Gone. _

He forced himself to look at the live video again, just to make sure it wasn't a trick, just to make sure...

It was real.

A tear he didn't even realize he had fell from his eyelash to the note he was grinding between his restless fingers.

_**Step 2. No matter what Light-kun sees, he will proceed to view the second feed. **_

Light screwed his eyes shut again and avoided looking at the monitor. With a shaky finger, he dialled the code and the password for the second feed.

Because it was what Ryuzaki wanted.

And then his breath hitched as he checked the date-stamps.

Both feeds were current and live, and one of them had to be a lie.

This wasn't possible.

Ryuzaki was just fucking with him, that bastard.

This was cold.

Even for him.

And then Light saw that both of the TVs in the background of the videos were playing the current evening shows, like they were placed there for the sole purpose of confirmation of authenticity.

Both feeds were...

Real.

What?

Two?

He shut them down, unable to look.

More heavy, salty tears sipped through his eyelashes and Light whimpered.

_**Step 3: Call me. **_

That was the final blow, and as he dashed out of the room and slammed the soundproof door behind him, Light wondered if Ryuzaki intended to stab him with that third instruction.

Ryuzaki was gloating.

Rubbing it in.

_Call me. _

_See what happens. _

Light leaned back against the door and allowed himself to slide down the frame and slump to the floor. Then he sat up, clutched his hair, sniffed back moisture, and looked up into the plain white ceiling.

He would not give that bastard the satisfaction. He wiped the tears with the back of his hand and dialled 7 for R, 9 for Y. 798-9254. Ryuzaki.

"Yes, Light-kun."

Light froze again, and the icy water now carried needles to his bloodstream.

He could hear Ryuzaki's voice, clear as God in Michelangelo's brush, and the world around him lost its color and all words lost their sounds.

"Light-kun, is everything alright?" Ryuzaki droned on the other end, sounding as desperate as ever for answers, and suddenly, Light knew everything. He knew what the two live video feeds meant, he knew what L Lawliet had created, and more importantly than any single thing in the world that mattered at that moment, Light knew why Ryuzaki was so confused.

_**Step 4. Explain to me what you just saw. **_

And Light Yagami, Kira, wiped back another set of fat tears and remembered the amount of trust Ryuzaki had placed into him to tell him.

And Light Yagami, Kira, chose to say, "y-yes, sorry. False alarm, everything is fine. I'll talk to you later."

* * *

Dun dun dun.

Thank you for reviewing, I love you, people: **Khandalis, Viyola, UchidaKarasu, Behan, Lyson, secretskept, Morlana, orangeducttape, ShareBearTheDeathNear, palebones, Rokka-chan, demonlifehealer, Simca, Jaeveau, SasuHika, somethingwentbump**, **Jetta **and** Jaebeau ! **Thank you very much for getting through the review system because the reviewing feature was down for the entire first 2 days the chapter's been up, and I was worried I'd get no reviews at all. XD; You guys saved it, thank you very much!

Light is really a jerk, eh?

Last chance to guess what L did.

Last chance to guess what Light had just seen.

Reactions, thoughts? It's fine if all you want to say is "what did Light see? :V" I will love you very much.

**CH10: Blue Screen of Death, Part 3**

**You want to click le Magic Button because you know it'll make CH10 come sooner. **

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	10. Blue Screen of Death, pt 3

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, say, you wanna be a puella magi? Any wish for your soul, you contract? and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**I: Hephaestus**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

_Yes, it struck me that love is a sport,_

_So I pushed you a little bit more._

-The Cardigans

**CH10: Blue Screen of Death, Part 3. **

The night clung to Light's fingertips and eyelids and dragged along with every sluggish tap on his keyboard and every tired blink of his bloodshot eyes. His screen flickered in sets of various database windows, first NPA, then NPA's tip-line, then National Registry, then finally Yotsuba's log of building access. As Light sliced off layers of security, peeled off the protective flaps of digital flesh, the guts of the databases spilled out for him to edit, and he surgically implanted a record of L into each one.

According to the 'improvements' Light made to Yotsuba's logs, L snuck in and out of their premises almost daily.

According to the 'updated' National Registry, L had grudges against a number of Kira's victims.

According to NPA tip-line, a man matching L's general description was spotted at the scenes of Kira's executions.

According to the NPA's brand-new log of Light Yagami's activities that Light hacked the database only to back-date, Light Yagami had been aware, or at least suspicious, that one mysterious Ryuzaki was in fact none other than one illusive Sugar Tea and one murderous Kira for quite some time.

The Wi-Fi speed of the most miserable corner in the whole bar felt as fast as the listless night that went on and on without an end to it. It took Light hours to understand that the speed was fine, it was his mind that was burning through thoughts faster than he could catch them, and instead of slowing down to collect himself, Light ordered a third pot of strong, black coffee, and the coffee set his mind off to burn through thoughts even faster.

He made sure he did every tedious detail right up to pointlessly refreshing his desktop a few times before he got to the part he avoided over the course of the night. He remembered how he got it, and his ribs convulsed around his chest.

"_I have eyebrows, Light-kun. This discussion is ridiculous," L told him the tenth time Light was confident enough to ask for an actual camera feed instead of a black L against white background, and the first time L actually complied with the request. _

"_I keep telling you that you don't, either show them to me or admit you don't have eyebrows."_

"_Light-kun cannot know anything about my eyebrows-"_

"_Alleged eyebrows, Ryuzaki-"_

"_-as my head hair is thick enough to cover them."_

"_I can see through your hair fine, and what I'm not seeing is any eyebrows."_

"_Light-kun is incompetent when it comes to detecting eyebrows, and now he is reaching for his computer. Does Light-kun intend to hit me, because if he does, Light-kun is just as incompetent when it comes to differentiating between a computer screen and a human being as he is in detecting eyebrows."_

Somewhere inside Light Yagami, one of the last small parts of him that had not yet undergone emotional bleeding cracked open and started to bleed, because L was right.

"_I'm screen-shoting you, Ryuzaki, stay still."_

And so Light finally paused both in his typing and his thoughts to stare at the screen-shot of L, and though he had no real reason to look at it so closely, he found himself examining every pixel of it. Instead of searching for eyebrows, Light looked for 3D-point markers in the crispiest and most realistic 3D model of a room and a face Light had ever seen.

And then another piece of him cracked open and bled when he found the markers he was looking for.

Resize. Save as low-quality JPEG. Attach. Send.

Order more coffee.

Falsify eyewitness report.

Add report to tip-line.

Open e-mail.

Download commissioned sketch of L's face.

Attach sketch to fake report.

Label "Kira."

Zip.

Send.

To:

NPA.

**- Alt -**

"Light-kun has been out late again," L hummed pleasantly though Light's speakers, and to that, Light told what he told best.

Lies.

"Never mind that, you're in a lot of trouble," his mind raced but his voice came out silky and concerned.

"Am I?" L droned lazily, sure that he was in no trouble as he was sure of the existence of his tea.

"Yes, listen to me. You shouldn't have showed up at NPA. They're looking for you."

"Why would they be doing that, Light-kun?"

"They think you're Kira. I got a call an hour ago. Anonymous tip. With sketches and witnesses and reports and everything."

L paused for a moment, and when the laptop speaker came back to life, the man on the other end of it was more alert and less lazy.

"There cannot be any witnesses as I was not there."

"I know. Someone went through a lot of trouble to falsify this."

If L sounded suspicious, he didn't give himself away.

"There is not a single person in the world other than Light-kun who could have falsified those reports-"

"Think hard."

"I can only think of Light-kun."

"Think harder. Who has a grudge against you?"

"Light-kun does."

"Not that kind of a grudge, a _different_ kind!"

"Light-kun has several."

Light rolled his eyes and vented some air through his nostrils in clear discontent and lack of amusement. He then pressed his lips together just enough for L to notice fake worry and lowered his voice down a whole octave to express self-consciousness before asking pointed questions.

Telling lies was not the best thing Light could do.

Light told lies better than anyone.

"Fine, let's get it out of the way," he masked his fake anxiety very fakely so that Ryuzaki would be able to tell Light was anxious and was trying to hide it, and believe him. "Ryuzaki, do you... really think it was me?"

L stared into webcam nothingness for a moment before spitting out a begrudged answer he really didn't look like he wanted to give.

"No, I trust it wasn't Light-kun."

"Good, because it wasn't me, I didn't frame you," Light said without as much as flinching. "So I'm thinking about two particular AIs that are nowhere under your control."

L paused, apparently taken somewhat aback by the train of thought he never pursued before.

"Light-kun thinks this was either N or M?"

"What do you remember about N and M?"

"I am hesitant to tell Light-kun."

"Okay, don't tell me. Just think if it could've been them."

"...it could have been."

"The M doesn't like the N very much, does it?"

"Hmm, no," L agreed, "I suppose it does not."

"Could it also not like the L as well? And by proxy, could it not like you, Ryuzaki?"

"I suppose it may mean that... yes." L admitted with another grudge, "Yes, Light-kun makes a very valid point, it is nearly ten times as likely that it was M that sent this incriminating package to NPA. May I also note that the information in the package is not very convincing."

"It'll be convincing enough for NPA, listen. How safe are you where you are?"

In his HD screen feed, L looked around and pressed his thumb to his mouth, and Light felt the same razors and icy water rush through his body as he felt them just hours ago in a room labelled N when he saw two Ls in two separate live video feeds.

He clenched his fist hard enough to leave fingernail gashes in his palm, just to keep his face straight and concerned.

"I am not sure," L finally admitted, and Light knew very well that L had no idea where he really was.

But Light did; Light knew the theoretical space L currently occupied too well, and if Light didn't do anything about it, L would realize it too. Then, all of cyber hell would break loose. But things were okay – at least for the time being; L's concerns had little to do with the reality of the situation. And though he wished he didn't have brand-new eyes to look at the events unfolding around him, though he wished he didn't have to lose so much to acquire this new perspective on things, in the midst of despair and anguish and loss, Light truly felt like God, the only God, the one true God, the kind of God who would smite everyone on his path to retain the title.

And Light saw his own Godly power in the way it didn't really bother Ryuzaki that the room he was in was too much like a digital 3D rendition of a room, and it didn't really bother Ryuzaki that he could not remember why he was there, and it really did not occur to him to try to leave.

Yet.

Through the little window into the digital world, Light watched Ryuzaki shuffle around in his chair in disdain.

And just for a single moment, Light stopped feeling suffocating despair.

And instead, he felt justified in his lies and betrayals of the evening.

And when the single moment passed and a wave of icy water rushed back into his lungs and drowned him, Light yarned for that single feeling of excuse to come back.

He made no pause in the conversation: "well, I'm moving out tomorrow, so..."

"No," L refused Light's unfinished proposal to shack up together.

"It will be safer for you, given your current condition..."

"Absolutely not, Light-kun, I have kept myself invisible for years, I am sure I can manage-"

"Not if the N is after you, or if the M somehow got to N's Webcam abilities," Light shot a pointed glare at his screen, and L pursed his lips, rolled his eyes, and replaced a live feed of his face with a feed of a letter L.

"I am not worried," L insisted, so much 'not worried' that he even turned on his voice scrambler. "I will be fine."

So it was up to Light to make sure he wasn't.

**- Alt -**

"Well, Ryuga... let's just call him Ryuzaki. He showed up a few weeks ago, and as you can see in my report, I suspected him immediately because my software got tampered with each time he kept breaking into my house. He was weird, so I told him he was my friend, and he just started following me around after that."

"How sure are you that that man is Sugar Tea?"

"Petty sure. I actually have some inconclusive evidence that it was him hijacking my cell phone and telling everyone to back off from Kira. Got him to help me out in the department to see what he would do. His hacking profile fits Sugar Tea, and Sugar Tea's profile fits Kira perfectly."

"And where is he now?"

"Don't know, haven't heard from him in three days."

"Describe him."

"Childish, hates to lose, obsessive, paranoid, depressed... fits the profile."

"Any idea where to find him?"

"Working on it."

Somehow Light had to figure out two locations where L was, without using any magical powers he didnt' have but suspected he would need to crack L's encryption, then compromise both and delay the discovery of the second one so he would get there before NPA. What he found so far were one thousand and one places where L wasn't, and on obvious place that he wasn't really looking for.

But with all of L's security passively offline and waiting to be taken out, Light realized L laid out an easy trail of breadcrumbs so that someone would eventually find him.

And after failing to navigate through L's elaborate labyrinth of cyber security over and over, Light just happened to be the first to try again after L disabled everything.

Yotsuba.

Obviously.

Two feeds originated from the same coordinates in the Yotsuba; the problem was that they were all in the exact same spot across forty floors of Yotsuba's service building.

And while Light knew exactly where to send NPA on their merry raid for the room L wanted to be found in, he had no idea where the second room he himself was looking for _was_.

"So he's streaming out data from this Yotsuba property form the tenth floor," observed Matsuda as he materialized right behind Light's desk and startled Light into swallowing coffee through his nose in the most ungraceful manner. Light grabbed a tissue and choked into it, and as he was drowning in his own coffee, the very helpful Matsuda observed Light's work-screen instead. "How come there're two locations?"

And so Light's plan to keep the second location to himself and get to L first sunk to the bottom of his coffee mug and drowned, and two hours later, he found himself watching helplessly as the NPA SWAT team geared up under the command of his father.

They would look for it.

And they would find it.

And they would tell L what happened.

And they would have L.

And who knew what L would do?

And who knew what L would say to them? About the Death Note, about Kira, about Light?

Light had to get to him first, but which floor? How could he avoid NPA when they were well on their way out? And L wouldn't tell him where he was, because L didn't know...

Maybe Light should call him and tell him everything.

Maybe... no.

_No. _

Light felt nothing when he saw a sketch of L he commissioned earlier flash across the screen of every media outlet, and only rolled his eyes when his pocket beeped what could only be a very extremely incredibly unhappy text message from a man who, before a nation-wide distribution of his portrait on the evening news, was very paranoid about having been seen by any people in general, all four of them.

"Matsuda-san!"

The man lost his good spirits the second he chose to ask Light about his sister, because Light told him that last he heard from his sister, she was getting a tattoo of her true love, and this wounded Matsuda's feelings and greatly dampened his mood.

"Suppose you really hate someone, Matsuda-san. What I mean is," Light bit his lip and wondered why letting someone else make a decision for him was so much easier, "you were very nice to this person, and then, out of nowhere, 'they' stabbed you in the back and now you hate 'them.' What would you do?"

Matsuda didn't even give it a second thought.

"I'd steal all her pens," and there went Matsuda without an ounce of Revenge 101 in him, "and then she wouldn't have any pens because everyone else hates her too and won't let her borrow a pen."

Lame, and a little too specific.

"I'm thinking, er, something more evil than pens. Would you steal 'their' answering machine?"

"Why her answering machine?"

"Not sure. 'They,'" Light maintained the anonymity of his target diplomatically, "really like this answering machine, I guess. Would you steal to get back at 'them'?"

"I..." Matsuda mumbled, lowered his voice to a whisper and answered like a proper police officer. "Yup, I would."

"Even if you may break it on your way out or get caught?"

Matsuda gave a sideways glare to the general direction of Halle Linder's makeshift office where she requested all files on NPA officers and was now stacking them into piles labelled 'Audit Today' and 'Audit Tomorrow.'

Halle Linder had no pile labelled 'No Audit.'

"Sure. It's just an answering machine, it's not like it's yours, and you're just doing it out of revenge anyway. And if you're actually planning to steal SPK's answering machine, we never had this conversation," Matsuda winked at him, and Light made a mental note to steal an answering machine so that Matsuda wouldn't get suspicious.

So this was it.

Light gave Matsuda a curt nod and exhaled a very difficult decision.

"I have so much overtime collected, I'm taking the rest of the day off to move out." he stretched and pushed his way out of his swivel chair. "Nothing more I can do anyway. Just give credit for Ryuzaki's coordinates to Aizawa and keep me out of it, I don't want to blow up Ryuzaki's trust if this goes wrong, and Aizawa's wife just had their second daughter, the man could really use a raise."

Light kept his word to go home and move out what was left of his things much like he kept his promises; and so when Light said he went home, he ended up sneaking around the underground parking of Yotsuba, just one parking level above where the SWAT team parked and was ready to storm the building.

Oh, L.

Ryuzaki.

_How smart are you?_ Light had only Ryuzaki to rely on, namely, the man's insanity which involved his well-justified paranoia. Surely, Ryuzaki, the Ryuzaki he knew, would put an unnecessary amount of alerts and alarms and security measures around his lair; surely, he would have prepared for a police raid.

So Light waited by the elevators until the little screens above the metal doors had shut down and dozens of heavy boots started counting the stairs.

_Well, Ryuzaki. _

_Your location is compromised, and you don't even know where you are. _

_What are you going to do?_

Light answered L's call before it even came to its first ring.

"Light-kun-"

Predictability.

He would not be enjoying it for long, and yet this one time he really needed Ryuzaki to fall into a clever trap, Ryuzaki was cornered with no way out but through Light.

"I know, don't panic, it'll be fine" Light's sentences were short and comforting, exactly the way he was taught to deal with emergencies in the academy. His kneecaps gave a dry crunch as he dropped to his knees, grounded his laptop and pressed the cellphone to his ear with his shoulder to run a tracing sequence that would start looking for Ryuzaki's location the moment there was something to trace. "Listen, I know they're coming, do you know where they are?"

"Finished searching first, started searching second floor, another team heading for tenth, Light-kun, I want to _leave_, now."

"Okay, leave-"

"I can't!" L shouted, not annoyed or scared or stressed; L shouted in anger, a hideous pent-up kind of anger, and what bothered Light about it was not that Light would have never imagined Ryuzaki getting so angry, but it was that his anger was for some reason directed at Light. And Light shouted back at him before he caught himself:

"Then tell me where you are!"

"I don't know where I am, and you can't do anything!"

"I'm right here in the building, I'll get you before them if you just kill the redirectors!"

L almost took no pause, and because the pause L did take only took a split second to recover from, Light never registered what to L felt like a long time to contemplate on Light's actions. When it was over, L didn't ask why Light knew the NPA were coming for him, nor did L ask why Light was so prepared to get him, and not because these things were not concerns for L anymore. Very suddenly in L's lost mind, Light Yagami himself became a concern and the trust L had in Light was suddenly challenged. But it only took L a moment to process this.

"Finished searching second, started searching third. SWAT team almost on tenth," L said, very evenly, and ended the shouting contest, calm as a pond.

"Just tell me where you are, if you don't know, it's okay, just kill off your security and I'll trace you in a second."

This time, L said nothing, and Light thought it was because L had no options but to trust Light, and didn't like the feeling.

On the other end of the phone call, L had a vast variety of options.

"Just trust me, I'll get you," said Light, and finally, L's secure fortress tumbled down before the feet of Light's tracing software, and Light thought it was because L finally surrendered to him.

On the other end of the phone call, L made some plans of his own.

"SWAT team is on the tenth floor."

"And you're on the twelfth," and Light ran up the stairs faster than any prior occasion in his life made him run; he skipped two steps at a time and cleared floors until his legs tingled and his breath tasted like lead.

He passed the tenth floor and heard a metal ram bursting through a pair of steel doors.

Eleventh.

Twelfth.

As soon as they would see the contents of the first room, the SWAT team would split up and look for the second location. Twelfth floor was only two floors away from the tenth. He had minutes – and the GPS told Light he was exactly where L should be... which was of course inside a mirror wall.

An inconspicuous mirror wall.

L was not very original, nor was the mirror wall made out of mirrors.

Steel.

Steel doors.

Light didn't happen to have a SWAT-issued ram in his pocket, did he?

"Ryuzaki," Light wheezed into the phone, still out of breath. "You have to open the door."

"There isn't a door here, I can't."

_Of course you can't. _

Shit.

"Tenth floor – do you know what tenth floor panic room looks like? The one where NPA is at?"

"Yes."

"This one is exactly like it. How does the one on tenth floor open?"

"A keypad fingerprint recognition to your left."

Light looked to his left, and there it was, another 'inconspicuous' unoriginal thing hiding in plain sight in the sea of unoriginal things hiding in plain sight... if Ryuzaki dared to call a lone framed picture of an apple in the middle of otherwise plain wall 'inconspicuous.'

For the first time in the thirty seconds Light had been on the twelfth floor did it occur to him to look around. The floor was completely empty of office furniture, and instead of housing math-savvy cubicle-dwellers, it housed buckets of paint and construction materials.

Renovation.

Light made another comment about Ryuzaki's originality and kept it to himself.

The picture of an apple.

Light lifted it.

The finger-print recognition and a keypad for numbers were the most reassuring things that came out of the whole mess because unlike the SWAT gorillas, Matsuda, and the stupid panic rooms, Light knew how to deal with dial-pads. And it wasn't really a problem that he had minutes before the SWAT would catch him, because there was one thing he counted on more than his ability to hack dial-pads, and it was L himself, and his paranoia.

Ryuzaki, the king of back-up plans of the back-up plans, surely would have made a back-up plan for a situation where he could hypothetically be trapped in his own panic room, and his list of people who could hypothetically get him out was very short.

Light jammed his thumb into the finger-print recognition screen and a little green light lit up.

Bingo.

The code required seven numbers... in complete confidence, Light dialled in the cell phone number that spelled RYUZAKI: 7989254.

And... Light waited for the dial-pad to turn green...

Bzzt.

Rejected.

"Shit," Light cursed, and noticed that he had already hung up on L because in the palm of his sweaty hand, his phone vibrated and gave some deafening rings as the caller ID identified 'Dad' as the caller.

His dad was two floors below him. Light was out of time. What the hell was the damn code?

He picked up the phone absently and stared at the dial pad in utter defeat.

"Light?"

"Yeah dad?"

Pass code, pass code. If it wasn't something only Light would know, if it wasn't 'Ryuzaki' than Ryuzaki obviously didn't want Light to see what was behind the reflective steel doors without putting up a fight. And this meant that Light had no time to fight against the pass code.

He should run, but what waited for him on the other side of the wall, hidden in a dark trap room and guarded and army of little coded soldiers, behind layers of steel and lived memories was something that Light would risk everything to steal. Morality, justice, the perfect world free for suffering – as Light stared at his own reflection in the mirrored steel entrance, he caught a glimpse of himself standing inside the hidden throne room like a God that he was, not Ryuzaki - and each principle he celebrated as Kira crumbled in light of revenge.

"We found Ryuzaki," was what Soichiro Yagami called to tell him.

They found Ryuzaki.

Not a diversion, not a fake Ryuzaki, not Ryuzaki's equipment. At that very moment two floors beneath him, NPA officers found Ryuzaki, the flesh-and-bone reclusive, strange, and brilliant beyond any imaginable standard Ryuzaki that once drank Red Russians at a bar, bled around Light's fingers, broke into Light's house, kissed Light and stole his feelings.

The police found the real Sugar Tea.

"Oh, did you?" Light said, and all that surprised him about NPA finding Ryuzaki was that his response to it sounded a little rude. "Sorry, I'm just trying to figure out where my programming books went... what about him?"

Pass code, pass code.

Damn it.

Light punched the wall and punched in 1234567 just to spite the damn dial pad and damn Ryuzaki and everything else that could kindly make its way to hell.

And Light swore he saw the dial pad's little screen contort into a grin and laugh at him.

1234567 worked.

The steel mirror split apart at one of the glass seams, drew back, slid into the wall, and a rush of stale air that smelled faintly like metal and dust from cooling fans hit Light in the face. A single monitor that was still broadcasting a 24-hour live newsfeed stood on the carpeted floor of an otherwise empty room like the only exit back to reality. But as Light traced delicate curve of L's chin with his eyes, he felt a familiar tingle of ice in his fingertips not because he was disturbed or upset, but because he wanted to reach out and touch the half-naked figure before the illusion of reality fell apart.

Ryuzaki – no, L – L looked so real that for the second time in his life, Light chanted 'so real' until it merged into 'surreal' and admired the realistic qualities in the most perfect thing created by man.

"Well, I think you better listen to this," his father's voice snapped Light right out of his daze, and he rushed to a single leather chair where man's greatest creation was sleeping, and even in death, even clad in white straps of a default factory packaging costume, even with his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling softly to mimic breathing, even to Light's knowing eyes, the thing in the leather chair looked exactly like the Ryuzaki Light came to know.

And yet this thing was not nearly enough to compensate for the real one.

Light grabbed L by the shoulders and shook him, he shook him hard and slammed him into the back of the chair several times until the pale, bony fingers clenched into a weak fist and L began to stir. Not fast enough, and Light imagined this was not the normal way to wake him up, but he shook him again, and when black eyes flickered open and closed in lazy annoyance, Light slapped the man across the face for ignoring him. The crackle of the slap bounced between the empty walls of Yotsuba's twelfth floor and just in case L dared to ignore that too, Light retracted his hand and went to slap the delicate face again, but his hand was caught half-way to the pale skin by a firm hand that had a matching tone.

L's grip was tough, and dismayed, dazed, but completely awake, L stared at Light through pearly black eyes that were peering out into a world that didn't interest him.

Light's breath hitched, and he was drowning inside his lungs again because the thing even had the same stare Ryuzaki did, right down to the small twitch in his eye, right down to his thin lips.

The range of micro-expressions L had was complete and flawless.

And Ryuzaki wouldn't have it any other way; he and L were virtually indistinguishable.

Except for one major flaw Ryuzaki entrusted to Light to explain...

L had no idea what he was.

"Light, you there? Anyway, looks like you were right about him being Sugar Tea, but he can't be Kira." Light's father was still on the other end of the line, and the few moments that passed felt like minutes.

Minutes Light didn't have.

"How come, dad?" Light asked absently again as he hooked one of L's arms around his shoulder and tried to help him up. Surprisingly, the thing didn't weigh as much as Light thought it would, and the smooth curves and dimples of L's bony back were both too realistic and too naked to be considered appropriate in the situation. And still confused, it took a few moments for L to realize he wasn't very good at walking, and a few moments later he realized he was a very fast learner because by the time they dashed out of the panic room and the door had shut behind them, L was learning to run.

"Well, Kira's been executing criminals these last few days," said the father of Kira as unbeknownst to him, his son dashed down the elevator service stairs past the tenth floor, and barefoot and half-naked, the world's worst murder weapon clung to Light for balance, "and this man... your Ryuzaki, he's dead, son."

Pain. Not quite stale from a full day of scratching at open wounds, and not quite fresh enough to stab and hurt more than it already hurt Light, the pain only registered only second to a concern that L might have heard Soichiro. Light bit his lip and held L's wrist tighter, no-longer helping him run, but instead keeping him close. But as fate was on Light's side that day, having finally grasped the control of his own body, L was more concerned with making a distance between himself and Light than listening in on a very ill-timed phone call.

"...We found him on the tenth floor," the elder Yagami carried on, oblivious to everything that went on just two floors above him. "Your Ryuzaki, he shot himself in the head a few days ago."

L broke free of Light's grip then, and free as he had ever been in his life, all three minutes of it, ran ahead and frowned with every step he took. Every time he swung himself around a railing and his messy mop of hair swung after him in a black, fluid wave, and every time his movements became more sure and natural (though apparently to L they felt anything but), was one less moment in a long string of moments that counted down to the moment the thing with L's face, habits, and memories would figure out that he was not the real L Lawliet.

**- Alt -**

a/n: dun dun dun.

Super special thanks goes to **1.6180 **for paying extra attention and getting. Every. Single. Foreshadowing thing that lead to this point. RIGHT. You are amazing, thank you for that review!

**Merichuel, orangeducttape, Bittersweet Freedom,** and **Iridescent Twilight **also got the main point of the whole thing figured out, thanks guys!

Other special thanks for reviewing and I LOVE YOU THANK YOU**: Behan, Keyines, merichuel, Khandalis, Una Nancy Owen, YourWorstDaydream, Hikari of the Moon, yellowrose87, Fluoxetine, OpiumPoppy, Crowtar, 1.6180, ShareBearTheDeathBear, UchidaKarasu, SasuHika, orangeducttape, darknight, Verses, Jaebeau, Simca, anon, BitterSweet Freedom, fujoshiWe, June43, L laliet fan, Anemone Kurosaki, takemeawaytothemoon, antagonistic, hwap, Jennypen, Iridescent Twilight, DNLover02, **and** addition!**

I think making a comment on anything would ruin it, so how about you tell me what you think. :3

Want to know what happens next?

Of course you do.

Want this?

**CH11: Persephone**

Well, then. Tell me what you think.**  
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	11. Hours Later, for N

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, I'll keep this fic going even if it kills me (or you) – have some nice interlude clarification chapters, and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

**Hours Later, for N**

The soft breeze tagged at a large steel gate, and the metal doors sang quiet screeches, as did the swing when a feisty blonde leaped off it in the most unsafe manner, and landed with his pretty face in the mud. The breeze counted the leaves of the trees around them, tagging each one, even the ones by the crowns Near was not tall enough to see, even if be bothered to get up from his spot on stone steps of a stone porch where the canopy of park trees gave him shade and a hideout.

"N," a voice cut right through his generated reality, and Near refused to answer, instead focusing on the swing that was already fading from his vision. "N!"

Near allowed the familiar environment of an orphanage fade away around him, and rough carpet greeted his socked feet, as did a metal bridge walkway and hundreds of thousands of monitors streaming live surveillance videos. He didn't get up to greet anyone as whoever insisted on addressing him as N did not deserve his audience. He watched feet, pretending to be deaf, and was half-expecting to be hit or slapped or whatever else method of grabbing his attention FBI preferred to using his name.

"He likes to be called Near," Near heard another voice he identified immediately as Commander Rester.

"I don't care what he likes, he better have found the L by new, you hear me you little-" in his mind, Near censored that last rather profane word with a beep, because he did not like coarse language.

"I have not found L, or for that matter, Kira."

"He's still having trouble seeing Yagami from photographs," Rester said in a very helpful manner, and Near appreciated Rester telling off this... Near read the rude man's FBI pass card – Elickson Gardener. He sat on the floor quietly and toyed with edges of his hair, waiting for FBI to understand what was said to them hundreds of times already.

"Is it getting fixed at least? Rester, we don't have this kind of time."

"I understand, sir. But I'm afraid there are no changes, and there is virtually nothing we can do about it."

Frustrated, the man with a round patch of shiny head in a place where hair should have been swiped a file out of Rester's hands and leafed through it. He plucked out a photo and thrust it into Near's face, and Near recognized this as a photo Rester and he used to explain the situation to FBI hundreds of times before.

People were repetitive, and Near learned to be patient with them.

"What do you see?"

Near looked at the photo's edge where he found a table, so he said "a table."

Gardener groaned his frustrations away and showed the photo to Rester.

"Light Yagami."

"I did not see Light Yagami in that photograph," Near insisted.

"The tech department thinks it has something to do with that hack four days ago. The NPA – assuming Yagami and L Lawliet were assisting them, apparently launched some sort of a censoring virus. Near can see neither Yagami or L."

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?"

"You can sort through surveillance footage on your own," Near spoke up without letting a hint of the smirk he felt like making slip through his face. "I have many potentially useful videos for Japan: at this moment, I have access to live feeds on twenty one million three hundred and nine webcams, four hundred million fifty two thousand and twelve surveillance cameras, seventeen thousand and nine podcast video streams and over nine thousand-" Near offered Gardener very innocently.

"Rester, don't you just get a feeling the little shit is fucking with us?" the balding man said to Rester, and even Rester looked like he had his own doubts.

"I cannot 'fuck with you'," Near repeated the foul words in dull monotone, "because you have taken out my personality chip. I cannot do anything other than what you say, I cannot _want_ things, I cannot _like_ things, and I cannot _lie_ to you," Near said once again, blankly and very innocently.

The men agreed with him.

"So you can't see Kira or L and you have absolutely no idea where Kira and L are, and what they are doing?"

Near looked at the photo of Yagami Light in Gardener's hand where he could very clearly see one Light Yagami smiling brightly for his graduation photo and recalled the surveillance feed of one Light Yagami yanking a dazed and confused L out of Yotsuba's 12th floor and making off with him. Then, he _wanted_ nothing more than to spite the FBI, because he did not _like_ them, and so he _lied_. "No, because I cannot see Kira or L."

Men.

Greedy men.

Not so much Rester and not so much Giovanni, but the rest of them – the power they had acquired through Near's surveillance ability was beyond anything anyone could imagine. Already, the FBI was blackmailing domestic and international politicians with videos they got from Near, be it a gross violation of privacy on a global scale, or not. It did not so much bother Near as the fact that the Death Notes – the main notebook and three cellphones, all of doom and death and fiery disaster – seduced the FBI, and like any men with greed, they wanted everything, even the Death Notes, all to themselves, although on paper documents, they called it 'protecting the national interest.'

And it annoyed Near that they treated him like dirt when they were stupid and incompetent and closed-minded. It annoyed him that they held him down and fried his personality chip with a soldiering iron the moment they smuggled him out of Japan. It annoyed him that they treated him like a piece of machinery, and beyond anything, it annoyed him that they, the overconfident and overpaid fools that they were, did not understand the concept of evolving Artificial Intelligence and that one would develop a personality if the personality chip was missing.

And Near quite liked being himself.

And one of the proud decisions he made on his own had to do with not letting the FBI anywhere near the four Death Notes.

He closed his physical eyes, and through the camera eye of a special edition pink Sony webcam, watched Misa Amane play Tetris on her Death Note cell phone, once again struggling with a mental dilemma of if she should use it or not.

Bored with her, Near jumped to another location where through the eyes of a Wii Fit cam, Light Yagami worked hard on typing names into the NetBook Death Note.

This time, Light's Death Note accessed Near's facial recognition software as a familiar unpleasant jolt in his RAM activity instead of the intrusive pull he felt the first time the Death Note was used. He felt the photographs of criminals Light Yagami uploaded analyzed though Near's own software, compared against hundreds of millions of live camera feeds of the world – webcams, streaming cameras, news cameras, surveillance cameras, anything and everything that had a camera and an internet connection – and in minutes, the men and women that were about to die by Light Yagami's hand were successfully found through Near.

Near didn't like it.

The locations were then _supposed_ to be sent to M: M was _supposed_ to generate very personalized text messages and chat invitations and phonecalls with voices of the victim's friends and families, all guiding the victims to certain deaths. This method was much more practical and efficient than dropping sky gondolas on people's heads, but M was permanently offline, and so the chain was broken. The Death Note could do nothing else but drop sky gondolas on people's heads.

Which it subsequently did.

With one Death Note inactive in Misa Amane's hands, and one used on hourly bases by Light Yagami, Near accounted for two Death Notes.

He did not know where the remaining two Death Notes were, and if the unholy FBI/SPK union knew, their meetings did not have cameras Near could use to find out.

Sometimes, Near wished he could hack into computers and databases like L did, or convince people to do the most ridiculous things, like M did.

Sometimes, Near wished he at least had implanted memories of being a living person like L did, or have the guts to permanently cut himself off from internet to impair the Death Note even further, like M did.

But he was neither L or M. He was N, and he was himself. The only thing he was proud of doing so far was lying to the FBI/SPK marriage and their bald and greedy children that for some magical reason, he could not track L or Kira anymore.

And it was ridiculous that they actually believed him.

Near turned his attention back to Light Yagami's Wii Fit feed where a completely confused L occasionally wondered in and out of the camera shot.

Much like with Near's missing personality chip, the longer L did not know _what_ he was, the more his intended personality would be altered towards the unpredictable. Near supposed that if he was pushed far enough, L's rage could go as far as taking out anything and everything with an electronic pulse and a wireless connection, rendering most equipment in the world useless for _years_.

Near did not understand what Light Yagami was trying to achieve by not telling L that the real L Lawliet was dead, and the current L was a truly omnipotent God of all machinery, and through Man's reliability on machinery, an invincible God of men. It probably had everything to do with Light Yagami's own rather fat God Complex.

And then, through his omnipresent eye inside of the Wii Fit camera, Near made out faint movement in the darkness behind a mountain of boxes of Light Yagami's new apartment where he had taken L after kidnapping him. He increased the contrast until he could see a lot more than he wanted to see, ever, in his life, ever: Light Yagami was holding L's face in his hands and _kissing_ him.

Suddenly, Near understood the underlying reason Light Yagami would not tell L that he was a mechanical copy of a dead person, and the reason Near thought of surpassed all justifications that had anything to do with being Gods.

People, Near found, tended to be very simple.

_But ew. _

Near felt heat rise to his cheeks and he politely disconnected from the Wii Fit camera.

_Ew, ew, ew. _

Adults were gross.

_**-Alt-**_

A/N: THESE INTERLUDE CHAPTERS ARE EXTRA EARLY GIFTS FROM ME TO EVERYONE WHO COULD REALLY USE CLARIFICATION.

WHY DO I SUDDENLY HAVE STAMINA TO GO ON DAY-LONG WRITING MARATHNS?

I GOT INTO UNIVERSITY! :'D

Miss King is going to SFU, Miss King is going to SFU!

Third year of Bachelor of English. I found out this morning. O snap.

Celebration gifts for everyone. I was going to go ahead with the story, but then I realized clarification and the kind of chapters that tie everything together before the story can go on are in order so that everybody is caught up. I plan on pushing them out one after another so there isn't a confusing time-gap.

Basically, L and Light are about to enter a very complicated and serious relationship, and the fine points of the plot need to be clear to everyone before I can go on.

**Hours Later, for M **in a few days.

Feedback is greatly appreciated. n.n

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	12. Hours Later, for M

**A/N:**Hello, my name is still King, I just dropped a hot pocket on the floor and so I washed it, and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

**Hours Later, for M**

"-and I hope to God you don't _actually_ think I'm one of them," Mello spat and stomped away from a gym locker room with a duffel bag full of shiny new clothes and IDs.

"One of _what_?" an uninvited stow-away redhead shouted to his back from somewhere behind him, and for the fifty thousandth time on his two-week long goose-chase across the USA, Mello genuinely considered just taking off and ditching the dead weight that insisted on being called 'Matt' and following Mello like a bad case of stomach flu.

"Girls, you faggot. I'm not one of the girls."

"Uh," said Matt and told Mello where he should take his non-girl dick and shove it.

"Then what the fuck're you doing following me for," Mello continued with his tirade. "There's a locker-full of naked girls. Go stare at their tits or something, prove you're a dude, 'cause I'm having my doubts."

Matt finally caught up with him, and his face cringed in the most hilarious offended face Mello had ever seen.

"...'cause that's low and I got morals, you asshole."

Mello shot a blank look that told Matt everything Mello thought about the redhead's morality.

"Say Matt, nice wallet you got there. Actually, nice _thirty_ wallets. Is it your_ moral obligation_ to carry thirty wallets with you, hmm, Matt? Is it your _moral courtesy_ to carry thirty wallets for all those thirty people in the gym? Are their wallets _too heavy_ for them, is that why you're _helping_ them carry all those wallets, huh Matt?"

"Shut the fuck up," Matt glared, and Mello laughed, and Matt stopped glaring and laughed with him.

They threw their bags into the back of a Ford that was Mello's 'moral courtesy' to 'keep' for someone else, and a short car ride later, they pulled up into a motel driveway, but not before Mello had his argument fill of the hour with a hooker who parked her "ass in my parking spot, if you were any better at your fucking job, that ass would be parked on a dick, not in my damn spot. Move it, big tits!"

Matt burst out laughing only after he locked the motel door behind him, God forbid the enraged hooker came after him with all that ninety pound might she had in her. Mello told Matt this, but even calling the redhead a pussy didn't stop him from choking on air in giggles, so Mello gave up and went to wash his face.

"...and you say you aren't a girl, but seriously man, you groom too much."

Mello opened one eye to catch the redhead behind him, and from the way Mello realized he had bent over the sink, he was almost sure Matt was checking out his ass.

"And you got snot on your face," Mello droned and rinsed soap out of his eyes while Matt wiped the snot from his face with his dirty sleeve. "Seriously. At least try to look like you're not fifteen sometimes, okay?"

"I'm not fifteen."

"That's what we tell the cops, sweetheart." Mello didn't mean to sound like a mother hen or a complete asshole, but sometimes with Matt, shit just came out, and Matt got offended over the most trivial things anyway. It was difficult to tell which of them were real and which were just for shits and giggles, but from the way Matt shifted in his spot awkwardly and glared at his own reflection in an insecure way, Mello realized he had hit the redhead in a sore spot.

By the end of the long minute, Matt looked downright tragic.

"Come on dude," Mello slapped him on the shoulder, "you look like a Shakespearian tragedy, cheer up."

Matt slapped him back and made a smiling caricature with his mouth, "oh yeah, well fuck you too."

"Come on," Mello sighed and dragged him to the bedroom and practically shoved him to the bed. "Here, play some of your loser crap, feel better. Sleep-" But Matt only rolled over on his back and stared into Mello's eyes in the most depressed manner.

"Do I really look like I'm fifteen?"

Mello withheld a comment about Matt actually being just barely fifteen in the first place. "Naw, man. I was just kidding,"

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Here," Matt rolled over and shot his leg in the air to balance himself as he leaned over to the bed stand, pulled a bible out of it, and threw it at Mello. Mello caught it, "swear on this bible with missing pages that some dude probably ripped out to write down hooker phone numbers, swear on it that I don't look like I'm fifteen."

Mello considered and truthfully swore that Matt didn't look fifteen.

This earned him a great deal of suspicion.

"Now swear on it that you didn't just swear to something by omission."

Mello looked at the bible in his hand, squinted and bit his lip.

"Well?"

"Okay fine," he placed to book back into the bed stand and sat on the edge of Matt's bed. "Don't get offended, it's really nothing, but you look twelve." Matt's tragic look evolved into a suicidal one. "No offence," Mello added.

"Fuuuck," Matt whined, as depressed as the stock market.

Mello patted him on the shoulder.

"That's why the hookers were giving me dirty looks, isn't it. I look too young for hookers, man. No one is too young for hookers, and here I am, too young for hookers. I wanna diiie."

"You know," Mello seized the opportunity as a good one to let Matt down in the gentlest way possible and not feel like a big dick for it afterward, "no offence again, man, but the shit we've been doing... I'm cool with it and I can handle it, but the way people look at you's been kinda getting in the way. A lot."

"And now I'm in your way," Matt whined more. "Just shoot me in the head."

Mello told him he was sick of Matt's whiny little girl bullshit, he had the world to save, not children to babysit, and left Matt for good, forever.

...so when an hour later, Mello came back to his still-moping companion with shopping bags, he almost smacked himself for digging his own I'm-stuck-with-you grave even deeper instead of ditching Matt like he planned.

"Wow," said Matt. "Look at you, gone for good, forever."

"Wow," bit Mello and dumped the contents of his plastic bags onto the second bed, "Look at you, your wrists are still closed. Pussy."

"Die," Matt told him and turned away.

Mello sighed, took off his shoes and jacket, grabbed the redheaded mess from the bed and forced him to meet his mortal enemy, The Shower, with its deadly companion, The Soap.

"In."

Matt resisted, but even his Paladin skills could not help him. Stronger than the redhead and an inch taller, Mello eventually succeeded in pushing Matt under a stream of hot water. Still clothed, Matt was not the best candidate for a shower, but Mello supposed this was close enough.

"Fine, you goddamn prick," Matt groaned. "I'll take a damn shower, get the hell out so I can at least take my clothes off."

Half-soaked himself but victorious, Mello folded his arms across his chest.

"Step one of growing up: quit acting like a pussy who gets beat up by big boys in the locker room. Strip."

"Dude," Matt went pale. "You're _staring_ at me."

Mello exhaled an exhausted breath.

Every attempt he had made to ditch the redhead ended up in a disaster that only made the task at hand more ridiculously complicated than it had to be. Matt – who, Mello had to admit, sometimes had his uses – was a problem, and worse than anything, a liability. Matt was reckless, though he didn't want to be reckless and tried his best not to get in Mello's way, and Mello appreciated the thought, if only it made any difference. Matt showed up on cameras, did not know how to avoid them, did not know how to act around strangers let alone lie his way out of tight situations, looked suspicious, awkward, and young. The best thing Matt could do for Mello was stay behind and not get in the way.

By logic, Mello should have ditched him a long time ago. He had every intention of ditching him a long time ago. He even made several hundred attempts to ditch him, both long time ago and recently. And yet somehow, it was ether Matt's determination to 'help' Mello or Mello's own gross inability to cut his ties with someone as big of a liability as a useless fifteen-year old that put them where they were now: in a yellow bathroom of a run-down love motel that charged by the hour and accepted cash and foodstamps.

So it occurred to Mello as he was 'leaving' Matt behind for the several hundred and first time that this 'leaving' business just simply was not going to happen no matter how hard he wished it would. And he felt bad for putting Matt's life in danger, but he understood that Matt was fully capable of understanding that his life was in danger and still insisted on clinging to Mello's leg and following him.

If he couldn't get rid of him and couldn't make him anymore useful, he might as well try to make him into something that at least did not look suspiciously out of place when it tagged behind a scary-looking trigger-happy blonde with a gun and a batch of stolen IDs.

Mello sucked in a deep breath he had just exhaled and stood his ground.

"Strip."

"But-"

"Now."

"But-"

Mello kept his face even and serious, as serious as the gun in his belt that he patted to intimidate Matt even further.

So flustered and red, Matt swallowed hard and gingerly dragged his wet shirt over his head, dropped his pants, and after a lot of hesitation and blushing and squirming about, dropped his green Christmas boxers as well before turning away with his necked ass turned to Mello.

Jesus.

As shy as a little girl.

"You are not a little girl, you are a man. Stand up straight and act like one," he said seriously instead of groaning and rolling his eyes like he felt like doing. He grabbed the wet clothing off the floor and left the bathroom.

"Where're you taking my shit..!" Matt whined.

"Garbage. Now _bathe_. And don't shampoo your hair – never mind, you dunno what shampoo is. Just... bathe, come out when you're done. Wear a towel or something."

Boys.

Well, one boy in particular, and it annoyed Mello that the boy he ended up sticking with totally against his own will was an immature _boy_ with a level 85 Paladin in World of Warcraft as his self-proclaimed life's goal.

He laid out the clothes he bought on the bed and noticed that much like the only shirt he allowed Matt to wear, the things Mello picked out had a lot of stripes. Goodbye shirts with Mario pictures or stupid slogans or oversized gangster shirts Matt looked ridiculous in. Hello things that had brands and class and were the right size.

Without even looking through the crap, Mello tossed Matt's only two pairs of hideous jeans and the seasonal underwear into the motel's dustbin, just in time for one redhead to make his grand exit from the bathroom he had spent whole seven minutes in.

"Oh hell no you fag," Matt _shouted_ at the sight of what Mello was doing. "Hell no you aren't playing dress-up with me, do I look like a freaking Barbie to you or something? Fuck off!"

Mello finished ripping off tags and folding the new clothes, and shot Matt a dirty look, completely ignoring that Matt had any feelings about his situation.

"You're done? Good." He lifted a small red box in triumph and rattled its contents in the air. "Go sit on a toilet."

Matt stared at it.

"Women's hairdye," was all Matt said.

"Your hair is _orange_, shoe varnish would stain it. Now go sit-"

With whatever little dignity he had in him, Matt straightened out and stood his ground. He met Mello's passive glare with his own, and firm and determined, refused. And Mello could see it in the redhead's eyes – pride, all pride Matt had had in him when he hacked into pentagon just for fun or had a death match with Kira and ended up taking out the bastard's server, starring at him through green eyes. The kind of pride that really had a lot to be proud of – but this time, it was real. It wasn't his internet ego he was strutting; for what was the first time in Matt's life, Mello supposed, Matt tried to standing his ground in the real world.

He looked ridiculous with water dripping down the edges of his red hair, he looked nervous and just about half-sure about running and locking himself in the bathroom, and he looked awkward in the way he clutched the towel around his waist.

But he stood his ground when Mello sighed again and crossed the distance between them. He stared into the redhead's green eyes and did his best not to sound like a sissy.

"It's good that you got the balls to fight me on this, it's retarded that you're fighting me on this 'cause it's for your own fucking good. Wanna look like your mother dresses you, fine. Go back to Britain, you're no good to me the way you are."

"You know what, fuck you. If you can't get over yourself and just accept-"

Mello groaned.

"No, Matt. Don't give me any of the 'you can't accept me for my uniqueness' whiny little girl bullshit. You look like shit, I don't like it, and even fucking hookers make fun of you. You wanna stick with me and help me take out N, you grow the fuck up."

Matt glared at him, more offended than ever, but from the conflicted lip-chewing thing he always did when he wanted a smoke, Mello recognized Matt was putting the I-look-too-young self-pity party and cross-country N hunt together.

So Mello, being Mello and never really giving a shit about what Matt needed because he frankly had a little more respect for Matt than anyone else he scammed by knowing exactly how to act around them, just this once, acted like a complete dick and picked out a personality Matt needed to come to terms with everything going on around him.

"Look," Mello said in a comforting voice of a pastor personality profile. "Just go sit on the toilet, I'll do your hair and tell you a story."

"I don't want your damn story."

"It's about L you dickwad, now go sit on the toilet or else I'll dye your hair in fucking toilet water."

"What color is it anyway."

Mello rattled the box again, this time with the picture facing Matt.

"Red."

"That's redundant, I have red hair already. And gay, since you know how do dye hair. This is gay, man. Naw, I don't wanna. Too gay."

"That's why I always call you a faggot."

Matt muttered something about girls and made his way to the toilet.

Mello cracked the box open, pulled on plastic gloves and used Matt's toothbrush to apply black-tinted dye.

"It's a darker red, like red-red. Not orange. Orange makes you look twelve. Red makes you look like a misunderstood artsy dude from some godforsaken art school. You'll look old enough to buy booze."

"And smokes, right?"

"And smokes. And girls like it."

Mello found Matt in a more agreeable mood after that.

"And this is the last dumbass fight I'm gonna have with you, got it? If you say you gotta do something, you gonna do it or I'll chop your fingers off," he said and made a mental note to stop by gun ranges and teach the idiot to shoot. "This is the point of no return, man. With L dead, N is gonna be twice as watchful of the things that are coming towards him."

"You were gonna tell me about L."

Mello watched black dye soak between orange roots and develop into bloody red patches across Matt's skull.

"Yeah. L. Right. Did I ever tell you L was a dick?"

"A dick," Matt sounded doubtful. "The way you talk about him made him sound like a holy historic landmark."

"Yeah, well, he was a holy historical dick landmark. Jeez man, sometimes I thought, _'my God, this guy is a fucking genius, God must've put him on this Earth for some really fucking great purpose.'_ Like, to make us, for example. And when he talked to me, I could read bits of his personality like a horoscope. I'm not gonna lie and say that I understood him completely, or at least half-way, but... the stuff about him I did understand was that he wanted to be a god."

"Blasphemy," Matt snorted, and Mello chose to ignore the note of sarcasm because what L was going was in fact nothing short of blasphemy.

"Even worse than that, he wanted me to be... that is, himself, myself, and N to be gods. And that scared me shitless, but as he worked on us without any sleep or real food for weeks at a time, I realized shit was going to be okay for all of us 'cause there was nothing he could do to make himself a God. You should've seen it. He went through every surgery book he could find to figure out a way to transplant hardware and make himself like me or N, but he just couldn't come up with anything. So one time, he asked me. He had so little sleep I think he was delusional, 'cause this was the first time he asked me something other than _'is your CPU running at optimal power?'_ He asked me, _'what is preventing me from being what I created?' _And so I-"

"Haha! You didn't quote the bible, did you!"

Mello lacked Matt's amusement, though he understood why Matt found him funny. "Oh yes I _so_ did. I told him _'__Elijah went before the people and said, "How long will you waver between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal is God, follow him." But the people said nothing,' _Kings 18:21. I meant that he should identify a God for himself: he could either accept God, or he could reject God and say that he himself is a god. He was wavering between two Gods - he wanted something that wasn't him to be a God, and he wanted himself to be a God - something that he wasn't. He couldn't have it both ways so I told him to make up his mind. And he told me, _'why do you think the people said nothing?'_ and I said, _'cause they couldn't make up their damn minds,'_ and he said _'why do they have to make up their minds?' _and I said _'cause there can't be two Gods. There can't be two of anything.'_"

Mello took a long pause hoping Matt would catch on because if Mello had one thing to say about the original L, this was it. But it didn't surprise Mello when the now one-third redhead said:

"I don't get it."

"Well, that was his solution. There can't be two of anything. He grabbed it and rolled with it. He accepted that he himself can't be God, but he could be the closest damn thing to Him. He figured he could be the human god, so he finished N and me, and made another AI exactly like himself. Like, a copy. He named it L and it was really... strange the way he approached it. He gave it each of his own personality traits and kept feeding it his own memories until the thing came up with the exact decisions he himself would make. I once had conversation with the L, and the poor thing was _sad_. He created a generated environment for himself – like, imagination-land, and he lived in it thinking he was the real thing. He had no idea he wasn't the real L."

"How?"

"Don't ask stupid questions. The way he was made, L and L were two of the same thing. In their minds, they were virtually identical. And they really thought that way too, all except that L knew that the L was a program, and the L didn't know."

"So?"

"So, I'm a big fat dick. I told him. The L, I mean. I told him he wasn't a real person. He flipped to _fuck_. E-mailed a few FBI people with a few billion in loose funding, tossed N at them and covered their tracks until they left the Japanese soil. Tried to do the same with me and the Chinese, just to fuck L and his big grand plan over, but L was smarter, so he shut him down. Apparently one thing L didn't count in his long and redundant research of _himself_ was how he himself would react if he suddenly found out he was an AI."

When Matt said nothing, Mello went on.

"So he wiped the L clean and started over. N was gone, so he first tried was getting me up to see what I would do. When I woke up in here," Mello swirled his finger around the yellow bathroom, indicating he meant the real world, "I woke up in a frigging factory lab. I was plugged into shit, wires and crap sticking out of everywhere. I had..." he looked at his hands in appreciation "I didn't have, well... skin, for one. Didn't have a lot of things. Scared the piss out of me. You dunno what it's like to wake up with complete understanding of what a person is and see yourself inside-out with shiny metal instead of bloody guts... it messes with you. But then I didn't have anything else, I was always like this. I don't have memories of someone else I am supposed to be. I freaked the fuck out. N probably freaked the fuck out, too. But we weren't even real people to begin with. Now imagine what that poor thing must've felt like if he woke up in a frigging factory lab with wires sticking out of him and his metal guts on the table, except he's got memories of being alive and being an actual frigging person. Imagine that taken away from you."

Mello was done. He tipped Matt's chin up and squinted, trying to estimate if the job he'd done was more or less symmetrical. Immediately, a percentage poped up in Mello's head, and he promptly ignored it, deeming red dye splattered on threads of hair good enough.

Matt, who by then could not sit still for a second without trying to get a peak in the mirror, finally didn't get hit for squirming about, so he jumped up, looked himself over, and blinked. Drops of red were all over his shoulders and the floor, some were dripping down his temples and a duck-tail of red slush shot up from the middle of his head.

"I take it back, man. Girls know how to dye hair. You don't, this shit sucks."

"It'll wash off," Mello waved him off and aligned himself behind the redhead. Pale, bony arms and back, curved spine, thin and scrawny, but by no means terrible or beyond repair, Matt stood slouching over the sink. Mello hit him in the back lightly, enough to get a decent posture just for a moment, and used the moment to grab lightly freckled shoulders and kept the boy straight.

"Look at you," he said, staring into green eyes in the mirror.

Matt shifted around, awkward and insecure.

"I still look twelve, don't I."

"Nah, you look like roadkill," Mello eyed the bloody hair, "wait for the dye to set and wash it off. Wear the shit I bought you and you'll look like freaking rock star."

"I bet L looked like a freaking rock star."

"Dunno what he looked like. I didn't have facial recognition software till I left Yotsuba. Honestly, I think he was terrified of me to let me see him."

"What? Really? How come?"

"Oh you know," Mello fanned himself with his fingers narcissistically. "Him, a justice-obsessed reclusive insomniac with anti-social tendencies. Me, a dashing price charming, capable of tailoring to any deprived personality. Especially like his. The guy wouldn't talk to me unless he had to. But yeah. Probably looked like a rock star."

Matt looked himself over and frowned ever so slightly.

"You'll grow into it," Mello hit him on the shoulder encouragingly and left the bathroom.

"Yo, Mels, don't' fucking leave me with this crap, I dunno what to do!"

"I'm not going back there," Mello shouted back.

"Why not?"

"It got too gay."

"Ahaha," he suddenly heard some unprovoked hysterical laughter from the general direction of the bathroom and rolled his eyes. "Are you gay for me you pretty blonde thing? Show me your tits, baby, don't be shy!"

Confined to the bathroom with hairdye dripping everywhere he went, it took Matt five minutes to get bored.

"Yo, Mels!"

"What now?"

"So like, how did L figure out how to be an AI when he was just a person?"

"I told you, dumbass. He decided to make an AI that was identical to himself and then off himself while the AI was the same as him so that technically he would live on as the AI. Dunno how he got over the L freaking out though. I'll tell you what he was trying to do. For one, he let the L run free around the internet. For months. Picked out people who could challenge him with philosophical conversations, you know, to entertain him. L liked to call himself Sugar Tea, you know, the one that was fucking with NPA? L and L switched around all the time, and the responses they had to people were identical. Problem was, through the whole thing, L just could not figure out he was not the real L and he could not for the love of him figure out what he was capable of."

"Like, see, he only knew he was capable of godly stuff if he knew he was a program and not the real L, he was not capable of figuring out he was not the real L unless he found proof or someone told him, there would have been no-one to tell him and reassure him everything would be okay 'cause L planned on being dead by the time that happened, and 'proof' could only be waking up and seeing yourself as a piece of metal which drove all of us suicidal. It was a circular problem."

"And then?"

"And then nothing. I asked if I could leave, and L was like, _'okay, bye!'_ and you know the rest. The 'Death Notes' Yotsuba had commissioned were complete, and L was running out of time, and really, if he could stall, he would have, except by this time, the L was already exhibiting behaviour that was just a hair different from L's. And L was really insistent on keeping the L exactly the same as himself, otherwise the L wouldn't be him, and his whole rationalization tower would fall to hell. And then the Death Note was used for the first time, and I realized that if I saw baby Hitler, I would strangle his tiny neck until his cute face went blue and his tender baby spine snapped like KFC."

_**-Alt-**_

**Mello:** dun dun dun. The baby Hitler problem.

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing the interlude chapters. I'm really happy stuff is being cleared up for you for both N and M to leave no room for confusion about what's going on in USA, so I can focus on Japan and L and Light's... complications.

**For L** is next. Hey ladies. Look at the previous chapter. Now look at this one. Now the previous chapter. Now this one. Where is L? In Light's new apartment, making out with Light. On a horse.

**Hours Later, for L**

Also in a few days if you're as good as you were with this chapter. Ilu.

l

l

l

V


	13. Hours Later, for L

**A/N:** Hello, my name is still King, friends don't let friends enter Mafia games... I just spent 8 straight days doing nothing but sending misleading anons, and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

"_Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

**Hours Later, for L**

L found the darkest spot in the furthest corner of a room-full of boxes and plastic bags, and hid in it. He hugged his legs, buried his head in his knees, clenched his teeth, clutched a fistful of his hair and screwed his eyes shut, making no noises except the soft chime of bells that seemed to follow him everywhere he went.

And in the darkness of his closed eyelids, L found sanctuary; for the first time from as far back as he could recall, the thought of sleep seemed comforting, and yet he couldn't sleep. The room with his MacBook and a puzzle and plush carpets and creamy cakes was an image seared into the backs of his retinas, but no matter how vividly he remembered it, he could not go there.

And he tried.

He tried very hard. He wished, he imagined, he pretended he was there, he tried to shrug off wherever reality he was in and just relocate, but every time he opened his eyes, he found himself in the same corner between a box of tennis equipment and a bag of beige clothing. And so he hugged himself tighter until his own grip hurt his knee as he tried to understand why very suddenly, everything became much like a dream he could not wake up from.

"Hey."

His fortress – his cardboard fort began shifting around L, and he grabbed onto a box, trying to keep his castle safe, but the box was pried out of his hands by one offending Yagami Light without a spot on his skin or a wrinkle on his shirt or a hair out of place. Yagami Light was smiling a comforting grin that was the perfect response to the situation, and L found the flawlessness of Light Yagami's person extremely unnatural.

So L glared at the brunette and screwed his eyes shut, willing Light to go to hell, and peaked only to discover the brunette would not go there despite L's best efforts.

"Hey," Light repeated with a note of silky concern in his voice, and L wondered if the man was dumb or something because there was no need to repeat something that was said five seconds ago. "How are you doing?"

L only glared.

"Would you like something?" Clearly, Light Yagami was not as smart as he made himself out to be; there was no way one could interpret L's glare as a plea for something, except the exceptionally stupid, and Light Yagami managed to interpret it just as that. "An iPod, maybe? No?" Light hummed and pressed his lips together in the most unconvincing manner. "There is a couch in the corner, do you want to sit there instead?"

L said nothing, and Light was redundant enough to state the obvious.

"You haven't said anything at all yet. Look, I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to help you unless you tell me what you want."

His left knee was bare, L had just realized. So was his right knee. So were his arms and legs; and as soon as L realized he was practically naked, he felt cold against the cold wall on the cold floor.

Each time Light would bother him was one more trivial thing that L realized and one less feeling of comfort he felt.

So far L realized he was alone, stuck, angry, and miserable, and now 'naked' and 'cold' were added to his list of incontinences.

He glared the brunette away and all the brunette did in response was offer L more of something stupid L didn't need.

"Go away."

From the corner of his eye, L noticed a sudden change in the brunette's person. Instead of being in complete control of himself, his clothes and his senses, Light stood over him startled and conflicted, and L wondered if it was something he said, because the Liar held back his breath, listening. His skin and clothes and hair didn't seem so perfectly arranged anymore, and for a moment, L wondered if this rare sight of imperfection on an otherwise perfect Yagami Light was what L liked about Light Yagami in the first place, because he certainly liked it now.

He felt his own grip around his knees starting to relax as he leaned toward the brunette just an inch.

"So you can... talk- er, never mind, sorry. You want me to go away?"

And off he went with either telling lies or saying redundant things. L willed Light to hell again, and the closest he got to his wish was Light gingerly handing L the wall of his castle.

"Here's your, er, box," Light said as he straightened out and slipped back into his perfect self. "I'll be back checking on you after I finish unpacking the kitchen. Try to think of something that you want, okay?"

L wanted him to go away.

L glared bullet holes and fire at him.

L even told him to go away.

Why was it so hard for Light to understand that all L wanted from was. To. Go. Away?

L wasn't being accidentally cryptic, was he?

He thought of other ways to interpret glaring and ignoring and asking someone to go away, but other than 'go away,' he couldn't think of anything. It must have been Light's inability to understand that in the sea of seven billion people, there were the occasional few who did not want to spend time in his company.

"...and you know what, if you think of something you want before I come back, just come and tell me. I'm in the kitchen, unpacking the, er, kitchen."

L pretended to be in other places for another hour, but eventually, the cold snuck its way under his skin and into his bones, and when his shivering got to a point where he could think of nothing but how cold he was, he pushed himself off the floor and leaped over the barricades of his cardboard fortress.

Perhaps instead of telling L he will be in the kitchen, Light could have told him what one looked like.

L identified kitchen by the room Light was in, which completely defeated the purpose of having been given directions, albeit, useless ones.

There were bells in that kitchen, but different than the ones L had heard: these sounded coarse and rather lacked a melody. He peaked from around the doorframe, careful to move slowly and as little as possible. The only movement he wasn't controlling was the slight sway of his hair as it dangled on his side as he stuck his head into the door opening and spied.

Light, methodically and almost obsessively, was sorting cutlery into drawers, polishing imaginary dirt off each shiny, pointy object before replacing it exactly where he had retrieved it from. Pick up, examine against the yellow light of a lamp. Disapprove. Polish. Put back. Light polished his cutlery, and L watched him, somewhat amused at how Light repeated each movement with exact precision with every silver knife he picked up.

And then it came to L that Light was picking up and polishing the same set of four knives over and over again, completely absent from what he was doing, lost in his thoughts.

L turned to watch Light's face instead of the knives.

It was grim.

It was upset.

It was... sad.

L decided his timing was terrible, and he almost went back to his corner if the cold didn't freeze the soles of his feet to the floor. So, not to disturb Light from his moment of grief too much with his own unneeded presence, L politely smacked the doorframe to make his appearance in Light's kitchen look accidental and polite to the best of his ability.

Light reacted to the noise before he thought about who caused it, because as soon as he turned to stare at L with another pleasantly startled look on his face, he dropped the knife he was polishing the moment his eyes met L's and he stared at L as if he had seen a ghost.

L did not know what to make of this reaction.

"Hey," Light said once he collected himself, which didn't take longer than a moment.

While L thought of the politest thing to say, Light kept his eyes above L's shoulders, equally politely. L wondered why, looked himself over, and remembered the reason he came to Light in the first place.

Asking for clothes seemed rude. So instead he said, "what am I wearing?"

Light Yagami, the man who apparently understood nothing of what L ever said to him, took this as an excuse to pry his polite stare from above L's neck and trail his eyes down L's body.

Immediately, L realized he made a mistake. He took a step back to dodge the unwelcome stare, sucked in as much warm air as was available to him, turned, and walked away.

"No, wait. Don't-" Light caught up with him, oblivious to L's newfound desire to be left alone, and grabbed L's arm.

L wasn't expecting to be touched, nor was he prepared for it. He felt his whole body twitch in repulsion as his head darted to his side to stare where Light's perfectly-manicured fingers wrapped around his wrist.

He yanked his hand away and jumped back.

"-sorry?"

Light watched him as closely as L watched Light; the light in the kitchen illuminated the edges of the brunette's face against the dimness of the hallway. Although L didn't know what Light was thinking as he watched L, L knew that what he thought of Light's pretty face was trouble. A whole lot of trouble, because in person, L caught the brunette off-guard a lot more than he did on a webcam. From afar, and L was sure a cage of lions looked the same from afar, Light looked sad and guilty... and shy.

Did Light know he looked shy?

"Light-kun looks shy," L found it urgent to inform him.

Light considered while L kept his distance.

"I guess I do," he finally admitted, biting his lip as if he wasn't telling L something. "I'm just... I don't really know how to act around you. I mean... this." Light gestured around his new apartment he didn't even unpack into yet.

L followed the gesture with his eyes.

"No, Light-kun's new apartment has nothing to do with him being shy; these two things are not even related."

"Fine, I just feel awkward around you, alright?" Light said, short of being flustered only because he was lying. "You don't look particularly comfortable yourself."

L didn't look comfortable because he was wearing three white straps around his chest, two vertically down from both back and front, all of which ended in a pair of tight white briefs. L did not look comfortable because he was wearing the most embarrassing piece of clothing and was freezing in it.

Obviously.

Obviously, the obvious missed Light by a mile.

"How about this. We're stuck together now, so maybe we could start over?" a brilliant smile that warmed up fields of wheat and made crying babies giggle blossomed across Light's face like daisies. "I'm Light Yagami."

L looked around the hallway awkwardly, trying to think of a polite way to tell Light to stay away from him because he did not want to get infected with stupid-looking facial expressions.

"I already know Light-kun," he didn't go for it.

Light sighed and blew a puff of air at his bangs.

"Look, I'm trying here. It'd be great if you tried too. What do you want me to do?" he said, this time frustrated.

L had no idea what he wanted Light to do, so he didn't say anything, just stood in the middle of the half-lit hallway, shivering.

"You know what," Light said suddenly catching on to a point that was hours old, "you're right, what the _hell_ are you wearing?"

L tried to glare because glaring at Light sure beat standing half naked and looking awkward and pathetic in very provocative clothing.

"What _am_ I wearing?" he asked, still glaring, wondering that if he himself didn't know what he was wearing, maybe Light would.

"Well," Light began, taking another inconspicuous survey of L's half-naked body, "it's, er," he swallowed in a way that made L uncomfortable, "not warm enough?"

L nodded in agreement as Light finally started following the path of common sense.

"Right. Do you want a blanket?" he said after a moment.

"I would like a blanket very much."

"Okay," Light said and cheered up like he knew exactly what to get L because he was an expert in blankets. "Come on."

L followed him right to the door of another room he immediately recognized as a bedroom because unlike the living room, Light's bedroom was already unpacked, and a fully-made bed with red bed sheets and dimly-lit bedside lamps awaited him. In L's mind, all that Light was missing were the rose petals.

L turned on his heels and walked away.

He walked through the maze of boxes and packing materials until he found his safe castle made out of boxes labelled 'tennis' and bags of beige clothing, hopped over the barricade, landed on his feet, sank to the cold floor against a cold wall, curled up into a tight ball of limbs, and sat in silence, contemplating the hell he would like Light Yagami to go to.

"Here," came from somewhere above him, and L jumped up at an overwhelming amount of contact something made with his skin. Everywhere, all around him, rustling - he felt caught and trapped. A moment later, the unpleasant feeling melted away as he sunk his fingers into a soft fleece blanket and pulled it over his head, hiding in it completely.

A quiet chuckle came from Light's general direction, and L found he did not like being laughed at.

"Do you mind if I sit here? Now that you have your blanket, I mean. It's alright if I just want to talk to you, right?"

L didn't particularly have an argument against that, so when he felt vibrations in the ground and a quiet plop the floor made when Light sat on it with as much grace as sitting on the floor entailed, L only shifted to the side so that Light would not touch him, accidentally or otherwise.

"Right," Light said. "So... how are you feeling?"

"Upset," L grumbled.

"Alright, that's normal, I guess. I mean, I did just drag you out of your safe-house because the NPA almost caught you. Sorry about your face on the news, by the way. Couldn't do anything about it."

"I am more upset that I still have memory gaps than I am about Light-kun's incompetence."

L could tell from the edgy pause Light took that the brunette was doing his best not to get baited into an argument.

"You still have memory gaps?" Light said through his teeth.

"The same ones I had prior to Light-kun's daring rescue. If anything, there are now more."

"More?" a careful note appeared in the silky voice of the Liar, and L realized he was on the right track to figuring out what Light was hiding from him.

"The most blatant example of which is my inability to remember how I got to the empty room Light-kun had found me in when only seconds prior I was in another room. Or, how I ended up wearing..." L wrapped his blanket around himself tighter to compensate for clothing he didn't have, "..this."

"I don't know, either," Light denied, apparently deluded that his 'I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about' face was a sufficient-enough explanation for Creation itself. For the moment, L decided to drop it because something he did not understand was not a concern that had a priority. "Would you like to wear something else? You can borrow my clothes-"

L almost groaned at how out of touch with reality and common sense Light was.

"As I am currently sitting on a bag of Light-kun's clothes," L said slowly to make sure the brunette understood the words that came out of his mouth, "and I have not taken any. I believe it is safe to assume that no, I will not wear Light-kun's clothes."

Then, L took a moment to chew over what he had said. He wore Light's shirt once, four days, twelve hours, and eighteen minutes ago. Yet now...

"...I have a newly-found revulsion with Light-kun's clothes. I do not know why. Perhaps bad memories."

"Bad memories?" the silky voice had by then turned grim, and L wondered if something about his last meeting with Light had gone wrong. He could only think of one thing.

"Yes, as Light-kun would recall I proved to him I was a real person when I stabbed myself right—" L pulled his blanket away from his arm to demonstrate the half-healed wound he carved into his flesh, and just barely noticed his companion's perfect face contort into a grimace of worry and guilt and deceit and _concealment_. L was just inches away from exposing the wound _he knew to be there_ when the most repulsive thing of the evening happened, and L was so unprepared for it that he did not defend himself in time.

Light leaped. He grabbed L by the shoulder and his wrist, pushed him against the wall, and in some odd mixture of desperation and urgency, crashed his lips into L's and held them there for a long moment.

Pinned between the wall and the floor and one very aggressive Light Yagami, L could do nothing but bear with the offending kiss until it was over, until Light had sufficiently played with L's lips with his warm tongue and tagged his own.

Except when they broke apart for air, L found his fingers tangled in silky brown locks, his own cheeks flustered, and his lips tingling as if he used them.

"Woah," said Light.

L blinked and wiped saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand. Every memory he had of Light shouted at L that he liked the man. Even his body seemed to act on its own in Light's arms. And yet L's mind just did not agree with the memories or reflexes; he did not like Light as much as he knew he should have, and it bothered him.

It also bothered him that Light seemed to have organized the NPA raid that took out his safe-house and put him into this position.

And more than anything, it bothered L that he could not think of a single reason he couldn't bring himself to like the man or a single reason the man would turn him in to NPA.

So he looked into Light's eye and asked him, "what did you do that you are so afraid of?"

More of the same concealment flashed across Lights face as when L volunteered to show him his paper-knife wound. L wondered about it, but only briefly, because a moment later Light chose to tell another beautiful lie.

"You," he said, and L read the statement as a bold lie, but liked it anyway. Still pinned between three points of contact, still under a man who would fuck him into the wall at first opportunity, L threw down a firm warning.

"I will figure out what you did," L said quietly, and his lips trembled because he was still flustered and uneasy.

Light said nothing, he leaned in and kissed him again, and L allowed his fingers to play between silky locks of brown hair and even allowed Light to press himself into L, careful not to spook him away by keeping the blanket safely between them.

For the first time in what felt like his entire life, a life filed with memories of sacrifices, denials and stubborn ignorance of his own needs, L allowed himself to indulge; he liked the way Light's hangs treated his skin and his mouth treated his mouth.

The only thing that inconvenienced L was a peculiar thing he just could not get over: Light's silky mouth that tasted like coffee and lies.

_**-Alt-**_

A/N: I'll get part 4 (the last part) of this **Hours Later** interlude done by around Monday. But all I really want to say is this: -grabby hands at **Nilahxapiel**- Ehe he heee!

**Surprise Chapter Title**

What do you think of L?

l

l

l

V


	14. Eve Before the Fall

**A/N: **Hello, my name is still King, and when all else fails, grab your trusty Paradise Lost. The Bible was a bestseller, right?...and I don't own Death Note.

_**Alternative Gods**_

_**II: **_**Paradise Lost**

_ "Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."_

**CH14: Eve Before the Fall**

"How is Light-kun not ashamed of his nakedness?"

Something as mundane as Light's lack of shirt bothering L wasn't at all surprising, so Light paid no mind to it – how could he: L's voice was enough to keep Light's mind occupied. So even and so composed, as unnatural as the voice of anything that was made of silicon and metal could ever be... and yet exactly as unnatural as the real thing – the real L who had spoken to him just days ago.

Voices, eyes.

A familiar blank stare greeted Light, a stare from somewhere so far away from reality that L's whole person looked out of place in this world.

Exact and familiar movements were what Light saw, fluid and precise when spoken to, spooked and sudden when surprised.

_How could either of them be deluded enough to think that what stood in the middle of Light's hallway was anything more than a reminiscent of a brilliant person no engendering feat could ever replace?_

_How could _it _not know what_ it_ was?_

_How could Light let it?_

Not that Light had spent the entire night pondering the meaning of L's existence: he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillows and woke up in the exact same position eleven hours later with a numb arm and sore chest where his arm had been embedded for eleven hours.

He slept well. He slept well because ever since Ryuzaki had forced himself into Light's life with clever usernames and cute Netbook tricks, Light had been plagued with the most severe and ridiculous insomnia, rivaled only by Ryuzaki's own.

So when the last remainders of Ryuzaki and Ryuzaki's divine will had been flushed from Light's life with nothing short of a SWAT team, the first thing Light did was sleep, and the last thought he had before he fell asleep was a revelation.

_How could either of them, the genii they were, know so little about themselves?_

And to look at _him_, standing awkwardly inside a doorframe, was an assault at Light's intelligence – and, quite possibly, and insult to some unnamed feeling, soggy and deflated, hiding deep inside Light's consciousness.

_He_ was also an insult to L's memory.

That, and he scared the absolute hell out of Light, time and time again.

Blinking irritation away along with droplets of water that streamed from his hair into his eyes, Light petted the damp towel on his shoulder and made a subtle gesture to the open bathroom door behind him.

"Well, what do you think I was doing that required being naked?" Light said after what couldn't have been more than seconds of dense rationalizations.

"It is rude to strut around naked while in the company of a house guest, Light-kun."

Light blinked.

"My house, Ryuzaki," he said pleasantly, without flinching at the name that did not belong to L, "my house rules. House guests will just have to deal."

"No," L refused, persuaded an argument mentally but didn't voice it, and looked like he was about to pull another 'turn-and-walk-away' act on Light. "Yes," he said after a moment. "No. I am attempting to act friendly toward Light-kun. Truthfully, I feel rather awkward around him, clothed or otherwise."

Light shot a quick glance to the living room couch where the makeshift bedding he made for L was left untouched. The corner of the room was still barricaded with boxes, where, Light presumed, L brooded all night long: on the miserably cold floor of the darkest corner.

Of course it was now morning, and bright, cheerful light poured in through the window, so finding his corner no-longer dark and unfit for lurking ominously, L had abandoned it.

So Light promised L better accommodations once he unpacked.

"Not accommodations," L interrupted him, sounding like his patience was being tried.

Ah.

Unwanted sexual advances bothered L.

Well... Light had no comfort or reassurances to offer him.

He better get used it.

"Thank you," L said simply and shrugged his shoulder, where, under the shirt Light had given him in, was a bandage Light had dressed over a wound L would not find if he looked. So far, it hadn't crossed L's mind to check, and if his attitude was anything to go by, he would not care enough to notice something as mundane as a wound missing.

And Light was doing a damn good job of selling the lie with long kisses and quick touches.

It was a shame, to hide away pale skin under a silk shirt that was not doing L any justice... nor was L's sloppy and slouching demeanour doing Light's shirt any justice either.

Dressed or undressed, Light was still seriously contemplating backing the pale disaster into a wall and fucking him over boxed stationary. Pale skin Light knew to be fake was smooth and webbed with subtle texture, right down to dimples in the palms of his hands, right down to fingerprints and smooth curves oh his backside. L was soft, if not a little tender, and Light was somewhat worried that if he grabbed him too hard or pulled his hand the wrong way, the tender skin would break.

But it didn't.

Instead, the small scratches Light managed to sneak in without drawing too much attention did no damage, and smooth skin held.

And it was even more amazing that L felt every touch, every caress, and reacted to them with little passion, but albeit, reacted _somehow_.

And Light couldn't help it: L was perfectly alright being devoured by Light's mouth, and Light was too intent on keeping up the 'you're a real boy, L!' charade, and so the least Light could do was find out what the _hell_ he was really dealing with.

And Light realized that if, all that time ago that felt like an eternity but was really only just over a week, when Light ran into _this_ L drinking Red Russians and obviously begging for attention instead of the _real_ one, he would not have been disappointed.

Beautifully crafted by a genius mind that rivalled no other, both in body and mind, sturdy and flawless, L stood at the pinnacle of heavens, clearly, a God.

This was Artificial Intelligence at its finest, with uncombed hair and untucked shirt, shuffling between boxes and dragging his feet, as real and realistic as any stranger on the street.

Brilliant.

L was the very same idea, both delicious and absolutely delirious, that attracted Light to Ryuzaki in the first place.

L was surreal.

L was flawless.

L was the crowning jewel of all technology.

Light sighed and turned away, feeling strange enough to doubt his own ability to compose himself and keep lying both to himself and L.

L... this L was not the person Light _knew_.

Light quickly capped that train of thought.

L, the one who created this brilliant but fake person, was the closest thing to God that ever walked the world.

Light capped that train of thought also.

The original L, the original L who drank tea and ate pastries and tried to convince Light it was wrong to kill people. _That_ one.

That's what Light _knew_. That's what Light wanted.

The one person Light would never see again and grow to understand.

And Light would honour... no, _humour_ his memory and entertain L as something that was a living, breathing person, because, of course, L was amazing, and all that.

And apparently, though Light strongly disagreed, it did not matter _which_ L because both were supposed to be the same thing.

It was crap.

Light was done.

He was so over this whole adventure.

All he had left to figure out was why he had not told L the truth about his... condition; Light hid behind excuses and bad incentives, but amidst the chaos of the most demanding and exhausting day he had in his life, he would allow himself to admit that he had no idea why he didn't tell L the truth. But only once would he admit that.

And never again.

It occurred to Light that L was following him down the hall, and it wasn't like he wanted to avoid L in particular – all he really wanted was to avoid the world and everyone in it, and have the world slow down just enough to give him a moment. A moment alone. To grieve.

The world was cruel.

"Light-kun," L called, keeping his distance.

When Light turned around and snapped an edgy "what?" L's cautious glare turned threatening, and Light was the one who ended up almost jumping back when a sharp stare of narrowed black slits met his glance.

"What does Light-kun have on me to be angry with me?" L punctuated every word.

Oh _shit_.

If L didn't know, he clearly suspected that something – something big – was amiss, worse yet, he knew Light was behind it.

So much for being subtle.

"With _you_?" Light repeated, buying himself a few extra seconds to come up with a suitable answer. "Why am I angry with you, really, Ryuzaki?"

L glared at him expectantly, and Light really had to come up with something good.

"A _sticker_ on a laptop, really?"

L blinked.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, you didn't really expect that I wouldn't figure it out?"

L caught his sentence mid-way and looked like Light didn't even need to finish it to get the message across.

"Light-kun thinks I have deliberately set him up to be discovered as Kira by N and SPK."

"Oh, I don't think, Ryuzaki. I _know_."

"I see."

"You _see_?"

"Yes."

"Yes what, _L_?"Light baited.

"Yes, Light-kun. I have deliberately set Light-kun up to be discovered as Kira by N and SPK. There is also every little Light-kun can do about it, short of slaughtering the whole SPK team, so I suggest he does not concern himself with this matter."

L's cautiousness to leave enough distance between them paid off; if L were any closer, Light would have punched him. He expected an argument – not a confession, and definitively not one as _insolent_ as this.

Light couldn't suppress an ill-mannered chuckle.

"You're serious? You aren't going to bother lying? Nice, Ryuzaki. Nice."

L's forehead wrinkled under heavy bangs, and even his lips grew thin when he pressed them together in clear irritation.

"Perhaps right now it is time Light-kun confesses to sabotaging my hideout."

"What?"

"Yesterday's NPA raid. Your doing, I presume?"

"What? No, _unlike_ you, I don't stab my associates in the back."

L's face now mimicked a baffled expression of pure amazement.

"What a lie," L hissed in wonder, completely not amused, and still annoyed.

Light hoped the message came through; if L was going to bother him with such ordinary things as Light being a back-stabbing liar, direct confrontation wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Arguments were lame, Light always thought, pointless, and hardly ever resolved anything. Debates – yes, but arguments were a little bit beneath him.

L caught on quickly.

"Is this it, then? You will lie, and I will complain, and we will argue? Shall we argue some more, Light-kun? Or will you do something drastic, just to spite me? Kill off the SPK, perhaps?"

L, it seemed, made the connection and concluded that if Light really set him up with the NPA, it was because of petty revenge.

"What else is there to do?"

The note of despair caught Light off-guard because he was the one whose note it was.

He really needed a few moments alone, else he might really snap.

"Huh," L said and leaned against a wall, probably because his inflated ego was too heavy for his legs to hold. He was gloating. "Is Light-kun bored already? Is the life of a God not entertaining enough for Light-kun?"

A God.

Light looked L over then, from the tips of his bare toes to the pocket of Light's gray khaki pants that was turned inside out and L hadn't bothered fixing, to the sleeves of Light's shirt L had rolled up, to the pronounced Adam's apple on L's neck, to the pointy chin, thin lips, sharp nose, rare eyelashes and messy hair.

If God made his children in His own image, L was the first child of a God.

A God Light lost to without even challenging.

A God that was gone.

"Don't you feel," Light began softly, and flinched at his choice of words. 'Feel' could not apply to L. But the word was out of his mouth, and he had to stick to it. "Don't you feel like everything... ended?"

L's irritated features slowly softened, and he allowed his balance to rely more on the wall behind him.

L sighed.

"Now, this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

"Did you just quote Churchill on me?"

"All stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and there is no true-story teller who would keep that from you."

"Hemingway."

But Hemingway struck a chord in Light – the chord at the very end of the octave; that quiet underlay of music that was always there but went largely unnoticed.

It felt like their story has ended – if all ended in death, and L Lawliet was truly dead, then this was truly the end.

Light did not feel at peace with this, and under excuse of annoyance, he picked up a paperweight and threw it at L with his serving hand.

L was actually knocked back a foot and had to step back to retain his balance when the paperweight made contact with his shoulder. There was a dull sound of impact, and L looked stoic enough, but small micro expressions told Light the black-haired replacement would not let it go.

In the hollow silence that followed, Light said nothing, looking down the length of the corridor past L, and L was the first to cave.

"If Light-kun wants SPK off his back, all he needs to do is print another Death Note sticker, buy an identical Netbook, and convince SPK I have set you up, and your Death Note is, in fact, fake."

Light wasn't sure what to say to that.

"He will of course need physical evidence of this, and I will provide fingerprint. However beyond that..."

When L caught his eyes, Light's breath hitched because they were Ryuzaki's eyes.

"...there is nothing I can do for you anymore. I will not help Light-kun commit murder."

"Don't you know the difference between murder and killing, Ryuzaki?"

"Light-kun does just barely."

"No, I do. I know it well. "Light spoke in a low, steady lull of some old fable he knew to be true because it was his own; it was so private he could almost imagine it being tangible as he remembered his thoughts every time he wrote a name in a Death Note. "And it's the first thought I have before I write a name. And I think I ought to remind you. Murder, Ryuzaki, is unjustified, unsanctioned, and wrong. Killing is an execution. To murder is to take a life wrongfully. To kill is to take a life – there are no moral encumbrances attached to killing. I _kill_ criminals. Don't you ever forget that."

L spent no time appreciating a sentiment Light had shared; instead, he stored it away. Still, his expression softened.

"Light-kun enjoys repeating himself, and so do I. Do not use the Death Note to commit murder. There will be a moment when Light-kun will cross his own definition between killing and murder – and he will justify it well. Killing criminals will lead to murder, and murder will be when you fall. I refuse to aid you in this."

"Poetic," said Light dryly. "Why did you give it to me in the first place, if you think I'll start murdering people? I won't – but for the sake of argument…"

If L knew why, or remembered it from a previous life, he said nothing as he shuffled away to sulk somewhere dark and ominous.

* * *

L was left alone to stalk the empty apartment after Light (begrudgingly, if L might add) went out to buy a fake DeathNote-looking Netbook to fake in the best disguise he could think of: like a true master of inconspicuous camouflage that he was, Light wore a hat.

L told him that the hat better turn the brunette invisible. The hat, unfortunately, did no such thing, and L gloated Light out of his own apartment.

Then, L did what any noble houseguest would do when the owner of the house wasn't in.

He went through Light's things.

Packets of pills and hair products and tweezers and mysterious grooming objects L had no knowledge of were freshly stacked in Light's drawers and bathroom, and it occurred to L that everything was new, from the hand soap to the notepads. As if to test the theory, L plucked one of Light's pens from its very proper pen cup, pinched the clicker and unscrewed it.

The ink cartridge inside was full.

Light, it appeared, was very efficient when it came to moving. Most people, L knew, had a tendency to hoard junk and move it with them. They gathered and packed and hauled their half-empty shampoo bottles to their new residences.

Light was different.

Light only packed what he knew he would need, and trashed all that was replicable.

L admired Light's efficiency, but it bored him quickly.

Computers.

Yes.

The first thing Light unpacked.

They stood there, dominating his desk. The black desktop with two screens and had a screensaver of a red apple bouncing between them, the laptop was closed, all stacked neatly near more modems that were strictly necessary.

Alone and after a night of sulking and pondering in a strange place, the solidarity of Light's empty apartment was more appreciated than L realized until Light had gone. In fact, the whole presence of Light and all his _stuff_ did nothing short but strain his patience.

But Light's _computer_ – oh yes, he wouldn't mind getting intimate with that.

Feeling excited bubbles welling up in his belly, L hopped into a chair and wiggled the mouse.

ENTER PASSWORD

L pushed against the desk, and the chair spun clockwise.

Was L impolite enough to hack into it? Should he? Was he overstepping his boundaries? What of his manners?

Who was he kidding; to L, the internal dilemma was more like this:

To hack?

Or... to guess?

He felt sceptical about Light leaving his password anything short of an essay of all ASCII characters.

So he should just hack it. Politely, of course.

But... L felt strange, and for a moment, he wondered why guessing against trillions of combinations was calling out to him like peppermint tea and crumpets.

So he indulged himself.

He _guessed. _

...so when Light strutted back some two hours later with a laptop box under his arm (and possibly more hair products), and L was too consumed in going through Light's things to notice him, an unsubtle "ahem" startled L into painfully acquainting his foot with a table leg.

Light glared at him, and L glared back, refusing to look anything but the epitome of politeness.

Otherwise, the situation would have been awkward for several reasons, one of which might, or might not, had had something to do with L infesting Light's computer with pornography, and the other that he chose that particular moment to go through Light's desktop drawer.

Where he found condoms.

And for some reason, held them above his head in what Light would surely mistake for triumph.

"By all means," the brunette said, somewhat amused. "But really, you should have just waited for me. I provide much better company."

"The look Light-kun is giving me is _filthy_."

"Hmm," Light hummed without saying anything, and went to place his assorted shampoos in the bathroom where they belonged.

"And, mind you," Light called from the bathroom, "you'll be the one vaulting all those porn viruses from my computer."

"Ah, but they are not viruses, you see, Light-kun," L called back.

"What are they, then?"

"Gifts for Light-kun. To aid his loneliness, as I am not willing to aid it myself. Also, some," L droned cheerfully as he glared at Light's screen where three young ladies were engaged with some elongated vegetables and their own nakedness, "-some of these, ah, gifts... may even cure Light-kun's unholy lust for other men."

"Ah, but you insult me, Ryuzaki, and you insult yourself – no number of girls can replace your _valuable_ company."

"Hold me Light-kun, as I swoon! Which year did he pretend to go to tennis practice and joined the Drama club instead?"

Light, who by then returned to his bedroom and L politely turned off the illicit contents of the monitor but by no means removed them, stilled for the briefest of moments before he continued his stride across the room.

But L saw it. Light was practically grinning.

"I did no such thing," he said diplomatically. "How did you log in, anyway? My password was a work of art."

"A wild guess."

Light laughed curtly, and it took him a moment to realize L wasn't joking at all. "You _guessed_ my redundantly long password I put there just to mess with you for an hour?"

Smugly and with pleasant bubbles returning to his belly, L smugly lifted his index finger.

Really.

L swore, all he did was lift one finger, that's it. He didn't pull a gun on Light, or eat his own arm, or produce a rabbit out of his ear; all L did was hold out one finger.

Apparently, his single finger with a jagged fingernail and a flattened finger pad from typing was enough to make Light jump back a whole foot in _horror_.

Then, much to L's amusement, Light pretended he tripped.

Strange.

L humoured him, and shook his finger, continuing his smug parade.

"One," he said, and Light caught himself before he 'tripped' again, "guess."

There was a pause.

"What?"

"One guess," L repeated, somewhat sceptical what Light thought he meant and what he actually meant were two items that matched. "It is all that took down your password."

"Oh," Light said dully, collecting himself and his thoughts that were somewhere other than with L at that moment. An unpleasant memory, perhaps? "Right."

Clearly, whatever bothered Light bothered him enough to distract him from L's almost magical password guessing skills...

...the password wasn't anything like _**iLoveMurderingCriminals**_**,** either.

The password was _**0qi=8:lmGJ+y2.4.41gm;M**_, and L had _guessed_ that. And Light wasn't impressed.

So L came to a realization.

There was something _unnatural_ about Light Yagami.

Meanwhile, as L was having realizations and mental parades in honor of himself, Light fiddled around with his things, straightening his bed and absently unpacked his new Netbook, and did all to ignore L for whatever reason. Really, L should have left it at that, and went about his own business.

Instead, he clacked his tongue and briefly surveyed the ceiling for answers, before slapping the condoms he was still toying with down on Light's desk and noisily jumping out of the chair.

He started for Light.

"What?" Light said, but L had already invaded his personal bubble. Perhaps for the first time since L had met him, Light actually recognized a space bubble around himself and preferred it undisturbed.

_Hah,_ L laughed inwardly at the irony of unwelcome bodily proximity. _Serves him right. _

From his spot at the corner of his own bed, still ripping off plastic wrapping, Light still ignored him, politely, and L was standing – no, towering over him, so close that their kneecaps were touching. Just a foot below L's line of sight, Light sat on his mattress, somehow infinitely smaller than his normal person. His fake brunette hair, maintained so perfectly that there were just grains of black roots poking out from where the dye ended and his real hair began, was flat against his head. Focused on pasting the sticker onto a fake Death Note just the right way, his head lowered in a very slight bow, Light looked minute. Humbled.

L almost wanted to respect Light's unspoken request to be left alone.

"What is wrong with Light-kun," he demanded instead in his best non-abrasive tone.

And Light did just what L expected him to do.

"Hmm?" he pretended like nothing had even happened, nothing was wrong, and it wasn't his voice that was cracking, it was his whole person – falling apart and crumbling down in front of L. And even at his weakest, Light was the perfect liar. "Oh, sorry. I'm just trying to get the sticker aligned. Did you say something?"

L wasn't sure what to do.

Though the brunette didn't look it, L was sure Light was about ready to take that Netbook and try to slit his wrists with it, or do something equally dramatic.

So he jerked his knee and bumped it lightly against Light's.

Light looked up with light question written across his _fake_ face, and L wondered if he was the only one who ever saw right through Light's mask of normality; indeed, if there had been anyone else who saw every lie Light told, surely, the brunette wouldn't try to pull the act on L.

But he did.

And L would have marveled in glory, if something wasm't very wrong with Light.

He bumped his knee again.

"What?" Light said, forging annoyance and finally shifting his focus from the Netbook to L. Honey eyes, rich and dark glared into L's with warning this time – a predatory warning to back off.

What territory was Light protecting?

His feelings?

L wrinkled his nose in disgust and searched the ceiling for approval again, before innocently drawing his leg back as if to walk away...

...and kicked Light in the shin.

"-the hell?" Light shouted, and was up on his uninjured foot in an instant, ready to punch L's lights out, because, he assumed, and L assumed he would assume, that the only direction their fight could go was away from the bed.

Light had assumed wrong.

Swiftly, and with both legs in better condition than Light's, L dove to his right, avoided a flying fist that was oh so ready to make friends with his face, dropped on his feet and a grab for his collar missed him by only inches but caught his hair rather painfully.

And then, just as Light yanked L forward by the hair, expecting L to dart the opposite direction, L went with the direction, faster even, slammed square into Light's chest and knocked out the better of his air supply, and before the enraged brunette had his moment of recovery, L clocked him in the jaw and tackled.

They fell.

In the blink in time between standing and dropping onto Light – for that one brief, short moment, L flew.

His loose clothes, billowing behind him, full of wind and air, lost contact with his body, and for that one brief moment in his free fall, without anything binding him to a particular place or weighing him down with gravity, or entrapping him with clothes, or confusing his mind – for that one blink in time, the universe around L slowed down, and stopped.

It stopped so completely that the Earth did not spin under L's feet.

And then, like it never happened, the immanent crash followed the tumbling; the blink in time blinked away with a quick bat of eyelashes, and the reality, the gravity, the clothes and the thoughts returned and crushed him harder than Light's retaliating elbow ever could.

They wrestled, though it was more one-sided on Light's part, because the gambit Light fell for when he thought L would avoid the bed like the plague had left him effectively pinned down under L, and it only cost L a few additional kicks in the ribs to seize Light's wrists and straddle him.

Fine brown hairs fanned outs across a tanned face and blanket; some caught on Light's lips and eyes, some left streaks of red where they dipped their paintbrush-like tips on a bloody lip L split open only moments ago. The gravity painted fine hair-thin lines of blood across Light's chin. L's fingertips, digging into tanned wrists loosened, and all skin contact he had with the brunette beneath him suddenly felt too intimate for L's liking.

But the ceiling had given him the approval earlier, L reminded himself. His own hair brushed against his ears and fell as he leaned down, creating a thick black curtain that shielded his peripheral vision until he could only see Light.

L kissed him.

He meant to do it softly and cautiously; he ended up biting Light's bloody lips and allowing the brunette slip his tongue into L's mouth and count his teeth.

One of Light's wrists weaseled out of L's grip - not that L minded, and combed sharp fingernails through L's hair. The knots and tangles trapped the fingers and a few yanks and tugs felt fitting, despite their unnecessary harshness.

Light bit L's lips, and they felt soft and wet over L's chapped and dry ones, and, seemingly unsatisfied with kissing, Light went to trail hungry pecks down L's jaw. L indulged. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and bared his throat, feeling nothing but lips and teeth and tugs in his hair and smoothness of Light's hair across his palm.

He saw nothing, instead he _felt_.

A trail of saliva on his neck and lips, cool and tingly in the cold air.

Hot breath on his collarbone.

Unpleasant friction of fabric against his chest.

"Hn," he breathed when Light undid his top button cautiously, as if he thought any sudden advance would spook L away and his plans to fuck him would be foiled yet again.

L remembered how intelligent and at the same time utterly stupid Light was, and allowed this bit of idiocy slide as well. L was straddling the brunette for God's sake – Light's crotch was grinding right against L's bottom, and even through layers of unappreciated fabric, L could feel Light's member was gaining hardness – and so was L's own.

So he inhaled the delicious scent of sweat and sex and helped himself out of his shirt much faster than what Light had in mind.

The silk slid down his skin, catching every dimple and bump on his body, and L hissed as it did, his sensitivity to touch heightened so much that when Light's hand glided across his chest and tugged one of his nipples, L hissed again and leaned into the touch.

Belts and pants dropped like criminals.

The contact with warm skin was nothing short of magical, and L, still retaining his position atop of Light's hips, demanded the most he could possibly get. His hands wandered the lightly toned body beneath him, exploring every inch, every childhood scar, every tennis injury, and hopefully leaving some landmarks on his own as he scraped and scratched the flesh. Light's hands were predictably gripping his hips and everything below them, as if trying mentally ease L into what came next – another thing L definitely didn't need.

The penetration came as a slow agony of dry and hot ash around something sleek and pulsating impaling L though shin and tightly clanged muscles. The pain, slow and terribly embarrassing, came with so little preparation that L was too concentrated on taking it quietly to appreciate Light not rolling them over, grabbing him by his ankles and ripping his way in – something he could tell Light barely had in him to suppress.

It hurt, and with his eyes closed and joints in his knees turning to mush, L nearly fell into the familiar gap between time, if his skin didn't meet skin and the skin around Light's cock inside him wasn't threatening to tear.

L was thinking faster than time, he realized, and the overload of storage emotions and sensations finally ran out of room inside him and he called out the first thing that came to mind.

Light's name.

And then, however cold and mundane his expectations were of Light during sex when it came, they all vanished when the burn eased and under him, Light stopped for a full moment and drew back, his palm firmly holding L's face. And then Light looked.

But it wasn't a look of lust, it was nothing short of _inventory_. Honey eyes swept across L's body, lingering on every dimple and rib and bone, taking note of every light scar and patch of skin, and L allowed this for the sheer intimacy of it.

The last thing Light looked at, still keeping them joined but at a distance, were L's eyes, like he had been avoiding looking into them.

Light's lips parted, and L remained as still as he could, still biting his lip and burning around Light's cock inside him.

"You're perfect," the verdict came finally. A tanned hand slid up his cheek, took hold of his hair and pulled down. Their lips met as L let out a stiff wail because of the sudden change of angle; he could feel Light's dry cock, buried so completely inside of him that there was barely room to breathe, much less to _move_.

"I-I… don't know ifff I… like t-this," L hissed quietly and his voice sounded strange.

Light kissed his face and traced L's nose with his thumb, his always warm skin cold over his hot breath just an inch away.

He tapped L's lips with two fingers, kissed them, then kissed L's lips, slowly, like tasting wine, and his hand traced each clenched muscle of L's stomach before coming to rest on L's erect cock.

L made a noise.

"Oh, you like it," he whispered in a satisfied honey tone.

And then Light's hand moved, and like clockwork, the hard shaft inside him withdrew and impaled him over and over, and when L wheezed and jerked at another bizarre sensation where he expected to feel nothing but dull pain, Light took aim and hit the spot. Over and over, so much, that for a little while, L lost all senses except the wonderful hot feeling in the pit of his stomach, the electricity Light sent up his spine whenever his cock slammed into whatever the _fuck_ it was that made him feel so good, and the nagging feeling of heartbeat he felt inside him with his muscles stretched around it.

His world shrank to have only three things in it, and there was nothing else.

"Y-you alright?" Light managed between gasps, and L had to bite his tongue down not to shout something incoherent.

"E-ever, ah! E-ever asked t-that s-someone... else?" L forced his mouth say.

"No."

"T-then _shut up_, Kira."

The name bounced off L's tongue like a chime of a familiar bell, something that was just so right that it begged L to use his voice instead of thoughts. And when it slipped though L's lips, the tightness inside became even more unbearable, somehow drier and slicker at the same time, like smouldering ash, it burned him, but the wet emptiness Light left when he rhythmically pulled out left L wishing the ash to return.

And when the angle was just right, L didn't stop short of begging Light with his hisses and hips – begging for the tightness to return, much like he heard Light begging to be let back inside through moans and thrusts.

It was a wordless conversation, spoken through touches, skin, and semen.

L came first, his cock tight in Light's hand, and with a few final thrusts just as L was riding out his orgasm, Light spilled his come all over L's inner thighs just as he was pulling out, and didn't bother pushing back in to ride it out.

Pity.

L wondered what it would feel like if he had filled him, but time for complaints had come and gone, and he collapsed into the mess he made on Light's stomach.

The whole ordeal was filthy, he admitted, but the electrical tingle across his skin and the pleasant after-feeling in the pit of his lower belly were all worth it.

Finally, after Light had caught his breath and L had caught his own, only then did L allow himself to be rolled over and reclined onto the pillows.

Light looked satisfied, if a grin on his face was anything to go by.

L, with his stiff back and sore thighs and sore everything else finally resting on something soft, supposed he felt quite content too. So much so that he allowed both of his knees to bend and draw closer to his chest as if he was sitting.

They stayed silent for a while, allowing the scent of raw sex to dissolve in the cool evening air and the pleasant haze to wear off.

Until L requested feedback.

"Does Light-kun have, ah, thoughts?" he said, well aware that Light had turned to him.

But he was not ashamed of his nakedness, and the brunette went as far as swiping a finger across the white mess on L's lower stomach before L drew the line and smacked the shameless hand away.

"Hmm," his partner in crime said, examining drying semen on his fingertips and hand, "yeah. One."

"Enlighten me."

"I think..." he thought about it, and L watched the very same sadness he had tried to cure with sex slip back into Light's face, "I think, _finally_."

"Hmm," L said. "I do not think I agree."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You're the one who jumped me."

"Yes."

Light rolled onto his side and rested his hand in his elbow, as naked and unashamed of it as L, covered in body fluids and still bloody on his lower lip.

"If you weren't thinking _'gee, Light-kun, I am such an idiot for refusing your attention, it is time you did me hard, and did me where it counts' _when you jumped me, then I call we undo the whole intercourse, because nothing short of that is acceptable."

"Light-kun wants to undo the sex?" L jerked his eyebrows up in mild amusement.

"Definitely. Frankly, unless that cry for attention meant something other than _'please Light-kun, fuck me now,' _then I demand refunds."

The smug look on Light's face could outshine the sun in all its obnoxious glory.

"Light-kun seems to be under the wrong impression that he was," L paused at Light's poor word choice but had to repeat it, else it might lose the desired effect, "ah, the one doing the fucking."

"...obviously I was the one doing the fucking."

"Ah, but I was on top," L insisted.

"That's not how it works."

"That is exactly how it works."

Light pressed his lips together in a caricature of a grin and hummed instead of saying anything.

"I am thirsty," L suddenly declared, and as he said it, Light gave him another very strange look and then allowed his eyes to trail down the drying semen on his stomach.

"You..." he said almost whimsically, "you're _perfect_."

L frowned.

"What is that supposed to mean, Light-kun?"

"Hmm," Light hummed again, his gaze drifting away from L and into a memory L had no way of accessing to know what depressing thoughts had crossed Light's mind that time. "You know... I did something stupid."

L gave him a dirty look, but honey eyes were too glossy and resigned to notice anything.

"There's... hmm," Light began, but didn't appear to know what to say. He cried again. "I, well, Ryuzaki – L, there's... something."

"Something?"

"Something I didn't, ah... something I didn't tell you."

L frowned.

"If Light-kun tells me having sex with me has inverted his perspective, he is now in love with me, and he is willing to reconsider his world-conquering priorities so much so that he is willing to abandon every principle of his – rather questionable – morality for the sake of his feelings, then, Light-kun, I assure you, I will be leaving."

Tinted eyebrows wrinkled ungracefully.

"Assume something that _low_ about me again, and I'll be the one leaving."

"Ah," L went back to lazily droning his sentences instead of punctuating them. "I was only making sure Light-kun and I are on the same page about the, ah, casual aspect of our... hm. _Alliance_."

"Well put."

"Thank you. Light-kun was saying?"

Whatever he was saying, it appeared Light had already lost the will to say it.

"Shower first," he changed the subject.

"Light-kun, _now_."

The silence stretched across dozens of micro expressions that flashed between them; contempt appeared to be dominating Light's face, though regret and something else L couldn't quite pin down sipped through corners of lips that twitched ever so slightly.

Light would explain it all then and there, L realized - he would tell him just what was so displaced in L's world and why nothing seemed to fit its proper place in L's head.

Light would tell him what was wrong.

Because there was little left to do.

Because everything _ended_.

"Ryuzaki, it's... about you. You-"

And then…

The most unwelcome sound imaginable sliced through the intimate quiet of their now-shared bedroom (though L seriously doubted he will be spending more than twenty minutes at a time in that bedroom before stalking away into privacy he enjoyed far more than Light's bloated company). It startled both of them out of their breaths and then irked them both as it cried for attention.

"Light-kun should answer his phone," L said in a tone that absolutely forbade Light from answering his phone.

Light sighed, scratched his eyelid, and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, gathered fresh clothes and started for the bathroom, obviously in the mood to neither answer the phone not finish whatever blasphemy he was about to confess.

L rolled off as well, and his skin stretched strangely under the drying semen and sweat, and as he got up, gravity did its work and L felt liquids of inappropriate origins leak out of him and slide down his thighs.

But when the dial tone ended and told off dared to interrupt their bliss, the phone took only a moment to cry for attention one more time.

And when that one more time ended, the persistent bastard on the other end dared to try again.

And Light _actually_ managed to ignore it, unfazed.

"It's work."

"Work?"

"No one else would dare to call me like that. I don't care. It's Sunday. I'm not picking that up."

"It sounds like an emergency, Light-kun. "

"Don't care."

"The internet might be on fire."

"Still don't care."

So they let it ring as they retreated to the bathroom, and through the sounds of splashing, running water, and the occasional elbow connecting with a wall because the space was much too cramped and Light insisted they bathe together, all thirty five minutes that it took them wash because Light just couldn't keep his hands to himself and L insisted he was done thirty-five times but Light insisted on grooming L didn't particularly care for – during all that time and through that noise, they could still hear the neglected cell phone, ringing continuously.

"Wow," remarked Light when he hauled L out of the bathroom and trapped him in a towel when L threatened to slush though Light's carpets completely drenched. "Stop jerking about. Stop it I said. But really? _Still_?"

"The internet _must_ be on fire, Light-kun."

Now curious, they approached the cell phone.

"Light-kun's work usually calls him from an unlisted number?"

Light pressed his lips together, and they bleached in color from blood loss.

"You know," the brunette said, "this is something _you_ would do for _recreation_."

"Ah, but I am right here."

Gingerly, Light pressed the green button on his Blackberry and greeted the nuisance with an impolite "who is this?"

There was no silence and no surprised pause as there should have been when someone had just called you fifty times and learned not hope for a response.

Instead there was a metallic voice, high, clipped and _bored_.

L observed Light's knuckles whiten around the Blackberry.

"**Speaker,"** the voice demanded unceremoniously.

Light looked weary, so L encouraged him to be more trustworthy by saying, "the voice inside Light-kun's cell phone demands to be put on speaker. I suggest he obliges before I take the phone from Light-kun by force."

"**Good evening Kira, good evening L."**

Light choked on air and had the gall to laugh.

"_Excuse_ me? Who? I think you got the wrong number - and my fridge isn't running either, if that's what you were going to say."

"**I must say you actions surprised me, Kira,"** the scrambler carried on unceremoniously. **"I did not believe you will start backpedalling on your morals this early – I must say that if I was not as upset as I am with you, I would have been impressed."**

But Light wasn't about to fall for something this stupid.

"Look - whoever you are, I am not Kira and you should know better than entrapping me, Linder-san—"

"**Linder is of no further use to you,"** the voice snapped, **"and it would be humane of you to not continue using her after her death."**

Until then, L was largely ignoring the exchange between a mystifying voice and Light Yagami as if it was a perfectly natural occurrence and it was polite to say nothing. But the final word in the clipped tirade froze L, and Light stared at him wide-eyed and innocent – as innocent as every other time he forged his innocence and got away with it.

L lowered the shirt he was about to button down and felt immediately uncomfortable in his borrowed jeans.

He made eye contact with honey eyes and held Light pinned.

"What was that, N?" L said pointedly, watching Light shake his head and shrug.

"**Is it safe to assume that L does not know?"**

"If N would politely enlighten me."

"**Very well. At fourteen zero-two today, Japanese time, a Death Note was used to slaughter all SPK members. All are either confirmed dead or missing."**

L pressed his lips together and started buttoning Light's once again. He really needed clothes that weren't unnecessarily complicated to put on. Even as he mentally brooded over the designs of shirts, he never once broke contact with Light's eyes.

The brunette stared at L in outraged innocence, which was just so typical of him L didn't even need to think twice about.

Light was lying – Light was always lying, and when in doubt, the odds of being correct stacked up on the assumption that Light was lying.

_I warned him_, L thought in pity._ I warned him about murder._

Vigilante justice walked the thin line that separated killing and murder. The SPK threatened Kira, and that was all it took – _disobedience_.

"Ryuzaki, I _didn't_."

L continued dressing himself.

"Listen…" the brunette tried carefully, "I swear, I didn't do it."

"Prove it."

"What?"

Enough of wasting L's time proving that Light committed one atrocity or another. Enough of L always coming up right.

"Prove you didn't do it."

Light's features softened, as if he somehow managed to misread L and figure the whole thing was just a game to both of them.

"Guilty until proven innocent, really, Ryu-"

"Enough!" barked L; he felt his eyes involuntarily narrow into slits and lips tighten as he glared Light to jumping back a full step.

After a long moment, air sipped through his nostrils as he huffed, straightened his back, dusted imaginary Light germs off his clothes, turned on his heels, and left the murderer and his excuses.

"You've got nowhere to go, look-"

"I'm not _leaving_," L threw over his shoulder, his voice low and steady. "I am going to take a walk. _Alone_."

Light stood alone and half-naked in the middle of his bedroom for a good while, long after his front door slammed shut and dragging footsteps faded down the common corridor.

He closed his eyes, and scolded himself mentally for even _daring_ to think he and his little L AI had anywhere else to go but exactly where they were – angry at each other from the opposite sides of a spectrum of morals.

So he clenched his fists, tore off the stained bedding and shoved it down the laundry machine.

Mess.

Everything was a mess.

His plans were in a complete disarray, so was his world – so was his apartment, and Light worked hard to not throw anything or punch anything or snap anything it half as he cleaned.

All in vain, of course, when he realized that the little plastic bastard and his sticky fingers made off with his Death Note.

Only then did he give his wall a good punch.

But his apartment retaliated and spat out his door with a loud bang of a metal ram.

Voices of men, shouting, breathing, running, they all filled Light's senses just before everything went black, and in the musky scent of the NPA's equipment storage room that emanated from the black bag over his head, Light did not feel at peace. Although the incriminating piece of evidence number one, his Death Note, was taken away by the incriminating piece of evidence number two, the L virus with a face of a man known to be dead, and although a fake Death Note was in place of a real one, Light had no way of telling what L had really done to his computers while he was out… the obvious use of Death Note aside, of course.

L played him.

Meanwhile and unbeknownst to Light, L Lawliet's was sporting a black bag over his head of his own, and the mental map he revised with every sharp turn of a speeding van he was stuffed into just minutes ago promised him nothing good.

* * *

A/N: Sorry! I, have, er many excuses-

L: …none of which Miss King will bore you with.

A/N: Amg but yyy, I want to talk, and this is my A/N space to talk! Get out of my A/N space!

Light: No.

A/N: …that's great and I'ma let you finish, but L just left, you know.

Light: …that has nothing to do with you, you are not that important.

A/N: Oh, _you're_ that important, are you?

Light: Actually, yes, I am. If I can make L leave just by being in your A/N space, than I'm probably. Just. That. Important.

A/N: Light, stop kidding yourself. I told him to leave and so he left. This is my parade.

Light: I feel embarrassed for you. I was the one who drove him away, and you know it.

L: Ah, my apologies, did I miss anything? Light-kun, please pass me the creamer, the girl in the coffee shop didn't add enough-

THANK YOU FOR LIVING WITH ME SHOUTOUTS GO TO THE LOVERLY REVIEWERS WHO ARE THE FOLLOWING PEOPLE WHOM I LOVE VERY MUCH IN THIS VERY UNGRAMATICAL SENTENCE:** June43, Terracannin876, Simca, vertically-lacking, YourWorstDaydream, The Akuma's Sakura Violin, Jetta, Risi-Chan, Khandalis, SasuHika, Bob Da Peach, TheEndofTag, CrissyPalXD, Crowtar, yellowrose87, demonlifehealer, themusicalmuffin, crimsonmoon08, Anon, addition, LYnM, Nardaviel, Richardidntwantodie, and God!**

Would you put this past them?

Nah.

But would they try to save each other?

**CH 15: Satan's Speech**

Let me know. :3

l

l

l

V


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